


Heroic Efforts

by Middle_Earth_Mama



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Don’t copy to another site, Emotionally Constipated Thorin, Eventual Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Eventual Smut, Flashbacks, Forgive Me, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Orcs, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Poor Bilbo, Slow Burn, This is not my best fic, but not too slow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2020-11-01 23:42:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20547977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Middle_Earth_Mama/pseuds/Middle_Earth_Mama
Summary: Bilbo comes to Thorin's aid when then dwarf foolishly decides to take on Azog. It is loyalty that moves him... or maybe it is something more... Bilbo really can't think about that now that he is facing off with an angry pale orc.This is something I came up with long ago, and I finally decided to do something with it. Bear with me, this might be a slow ride, and honestly it's nothing fantastic. Be warned, things get pretty melodramatic as the story unfolds, I can't help it. I'm a big sap.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my loves! Just finding a project that is not too in depth to fill in before I really start pushing my "To Love" series, and possible other works. Not a terribly original concept, just trying to keep the creativity flowing! Let me know what you think!
> 
> Note: the second half of each of these first chapters (in italics) is a flashback. Let me know if it gets too confusing

Bilbo watched in awe as Thorin Oakenshield strode determinedly down the fallen tree trunk towards the pale orc, smoke and flame surrounding him as he clasped his sword firmly in thick calloused hands. 

What bravery and sense of duty must rest in the dwarf king's heart? How could he move so confidently towards what could only be certain death? Bilbo's eyes widened as he took in the sight before him, trying to make sense of it through the haze of terror he'd been engulfed in. There was no way Thorin could win. How many orcs and wargs stood before them? 

Bilbo swallowed dryly as the orc urged his white mount to lunge at Thorin. The dwarf swung his sword, managing to clip the warg's shoulder, but he was thrown easily to the ground. Bilbo watched helplessly as the beast grabbed Thorin up and shook him like a useless toy, each of Thorin's cries of pain piercing Bilbo like a knife to his heart. Horror gripped him when the king hit the ground with a grunt, and did not rise. 

No. Thorin. 

Looking back, the little hobbit could not say what he thought he could do against the terrible foe. His thoughts were consumed with the same mantra. 

Thorin can not die. Not Thorin. Not Thorin. 

It was all he heard in his head as he traced the same path Thorin had just taken towards the menacing orcs before him. The ground was still hot with ash under his leathery feet, the smoke catching in his lungs and making his eyes water. He moved with purpose, and his heartbeat was a roar in his ears, adrenaline pounding through him as he lunged forth and tackled the orc standing over Thorin's still form. Rage and determination had taken over as he plunged his little sword into Thorin's would be murderer. He leaped up and stood between Thorin and the pale orc, who sneered and cackled at him in amusement. Bilbo struggled not to crumble in his fear, but he firmly planted his feet and took a steadying breath.

Not Thorin. 

Bilbo's hands shook as they held his sword in front of him, slashing sloppily back and forth in an attempt to hold the orcs before him at bay. Azog laughed again at the hobbit's sorry attempt to defend the king and kicked his warg to charge at the small creature. His advance sent Bilbo stumbling back towards Thorin, his sword flying from his scrambling hands. Azog grabbed him by the jacket and held him aloft before the dwarf, grinning menacingly as the would be king lay helplessly at his mounts feet. 

“A body guard, Oakenshield?” he asked mockingly. “There is none who will save you now.”

Azog threw Bilbo aside effortlessly and dismounted. He strode towards Thorin, blade raised to finish the job himself. 

Again Bilbo threw himself in harms way to protect his fallen friend. He jumped between the two completely unarmed, and threw his hands out beside him, as if shielding Thorin from the foul orcs view could possibly save him. 

Azog spat at him, raising his blade again threateningly. “Move, or I will cut you in two.”

“No.” Bilbo's voice was soft, but sure. He lifted his chin in defiance, though his body was wracked with fearful tremors. 

Thorin looked up at the determined hobbit in disbelief, rolling with great difficulty onto his side with a painful groan. “Bilbo, no-” he bit out between clenched teeth as he reached for his sword. 

Bilbo glanced back at Thorin when he called out his name, relieved to hear him speak, confirming he was still alive. Azog took his chance and reached out to grab the halfling again, picking him up off the ground by the front of his shirt. 

“You dare to stand in my way! Do you really think I would let you survive? Are you ready to die for him, you pathetic creature?” he roared at Bilbo.

Bilbo looked at Thorin, staring directly into those too blue eyes and lifting the corner of his lips as he responded. “Yes. A thousand times.”

“No!!” Thorin roared as rage overtook him. He grabbed his sword and tried again to rise, but stumbled back onto the dirt just as a great shriek echoed over them all. 

The eagles had finally arrived. Thorin couldn't help but wonder as his vision grew dark, would the hobbit be spared? And, if Bilbo would not live, did Thorin even want to be saved?

* * * * *

_Bilbo couldn't say when it had happened, but on some point in his journey with the company, he had become quite attached to its leader. At first, he found Thorin quite rude and didn't care much for him. His harsh tongue and flippant remarks seemingly always aimed at Bilbo, rubbed on his last nerve. He was quite convinced that Thorin hated him. It was rough going from the very start, standing in his own home being circled and sized up like a prized pig at the Hobbiton fair. The king had obviously found him wanting, and made no secret of his disapproval of Gandalf's choosing the hobbit as their burglar._

__

_Not that Bilbo was a burglar at all to begin with, but that was certainly not the point.___

_ __ _

__

_ __ _

_The hobbit felt as though the entire company was wary of him, in the very beginning, though Bofur had always been friendly. That first night on the road, after they had made camp somewhere outside of Bree, Bilbo found himself sitting quite alone on the cold ground. He watched the surrounding company, trying to make head or tails of how the dwarves related. He was a bit fascinated by the dwarves mannerisms, or lack of manners really. Disgusted in some cases. But the ribbing and crude humor were a bit endearing, when he took the time to see the relationships between his companions. ___

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

__

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

_At the moment, Bofur was sitting by the princes, telling some crude tale about a maiden he'd met in a tavern somewhere. Bilbo couldn't hear what was being said, but he smiled as he watched Fili and Kili fall over themselves laughing. Ori sat to the other side of the pair, and he was suppressing his own giggles with a face of crimson.___

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

__

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

_Bilbo's eyes traveled over the rest of the company not far from the merrymaking. Dori was sat with Bombur, Oin, Gloin, and Bifur. Bombur, Bilbo was sure, was telling a tale of the wife they had all been hearing about for the better part of the day, while Dori frowned in disapproval across the flames at his youngest brother, who had been pulled into a playful scuffle with the princes.___

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Bilbo couldn't help but laugh a bit as Dori finally had enough and strode over to pull the trio apart, grasping Ori and Kili both by the ear. A nearby chuckle startled Bilbo out of his observing, and he looked up as Bofur plopped down on the ground right next to him.___

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_“Always riling them up. I can't help meself,” the dwarf said with a jovial smile, “it's far too humorous watching that one get his beard in a knot over his little brother playing too rough.”___

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Bilbo joined Bofur in laughter, nearly rolling as they noticed Fili making faces at Kili from behind a fuming Dori, who was obviously giving Ori and the younger prince an earful. Bilbo shifted his gaze as he chuckled, and found a pair of intense sapphire eyes blazing into his own. His breath caught and he froze, but Thorin's calculating stare had already dropped. Bofur elbowed him playfully in the side, and Bilbo chuckled again half heartedly, turning his attention back to the dwarf next to him.___

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_“I think it's high time for a song!” Bofur declared. He went off on a verse that Bilbo thought had to have been improvised, about a dwarrowdam whose beard was so long she could braid it into her hobbit lover's foot fuzz. It was all too much for Bilbo. He sighed and shook his head in amusement and looked over again to where Thorin had been, but the king was gone.___

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ __ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovlies!  
Thorin's POV here. He is such a moody dwarf.

“Thorin?”  
The voice was muffled to Thorin's ears and he struggled to bring himself into consciousness. His head felt heavy, and his body ached all over, as though he had been run over by an pack of angry cave trolls.

Thorin frowned as the world slowly came swimming back through the heavy fog that clung to him.  
“Where's Bilbo?” he rasped out as his eyes flew open in panic.

Gandalf sighed above him.  
“I am not certain,” Gandalf's face was grave, the lines more pronounced in his obvious worry. “Azog has taken him, Thorin.”  
The wizard's voice was laced with sorrow, and Thorin's panic rose as the possible outcomes flashed in his mind's eye. 

“We must go back for him! We must save him!”  
Thorin pushed himself to sitting and tried to clamber to his feet, but the movement jostled his injured ribs. He fell back onto the rock beneath him with a roar of agony. 

“Slow down, Thorin,” Gandalf held his hands out as if to hold the dwarf down. “We will not leave Bilbo to his fate. I have sent two eagles back with Bofur, Nori, and Dori to search for him. Another went ahead with a message to an acquaintance of mine, who may aid us.”

“You cannot expect me to just sit here and wait around!” Thorin spat angrily. “I have to find him! He is in danger because of me!”

“He was always in danger, Thorin Oakenshield,” the wizard scolded, “Bilbo faced that orc of his own accord. Your foolish impulsive decision was your own, as was his. He chose to look death in the face. As you said from the beginning, you are not responsible for his fate.”

Thorin looked away, his face a mask of anger and fear. How could he have let this happen? Azog had gotten the best of him again, and because of it, another innocent had suffered. He clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut in anguish as he thought about all Azog had cost him. His grandfather. His father. His brother. And now Bilbo. 

“Uncle?” a voice from behind the wizard pulled Thorin from his dark thoughts as Kili came into view.  
“Are you badly injured?” his nephew sounded so young in his worry as he knelt at Thorin's side. He looked uncertain as his eyes scanned his uncle's form.

Thorin reached up to lay a hand on the back of his sister son's head and pulled him close, pulling their foreheads together gently.

“I will be fine, Kili. Just a few bruises.”

“And Bilbo?” Kili asked, pulling back to look at Thorin in clear distress.

Thorin closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. How could he lie to his nephew? And yet, he couldn't find it in him to speak the truth out loud. To admit that the hobbit had surely met his end, and even hoping for his survival was foolish.

And it was entirely Thorin's fault, meddlesome wizards and their twisted logic be damned.

Thorin had underestimated the smallest member of their company. He never anticipated that the hobbit would put himself in such danger for the sake of another's life. 

Particularly his own, after how he had treated the hobbit these last days. 

Bilbo was full of surprises, and hopefully, Mahal willing, his surviving the wrath of the pale orc would just be another one of them.

“We will do everything we can to find him,” Thorin finally replied softly, turning his head away to hide the sorrow he could feel pooling in his eyes. The hobbit had come to mean more to him than he was willing to admit, his current heartache and the wave of terror rolling through him were a testament to it. 

“Do you think it possible he still lives?” Fili asked from somewhere over Kili's shoulder.

Thorin turned his face skyward, trying to find the words to answer his heir. The sun's bright rays mocked him as they shone through white velvet clouds. How could anything look so hopeful when he was feeling such overwhelming despair? 

“The best thing we can do is hold on to hope that Bilbo is still alive, and our friends are able to find him,” Gandalf saved Thorin from having to answer the question himself. “In the meantime, we need to find you shelter, Thorin. Your wounds need tending.”

Gandalf's statement held a certain tone of finality, and much as Thorin wished to protest, he knew this would not be negotiable. It was with great effort that Kili helped Thorin sit up. He groaned, and quickly found the pain was much less when he kept his breaths more shallow. His eyes roved over the members of the company who were present, and he could tell by Oin's face the healer was itching to get his hands on him. 

“Let's move on then,” the dwarf king ordered, eager to escape the shrewd healer's prodding for just a little longer.

The trek down the Carrock was not an easy one. It was slow going for the company, and Thorin was ashamed to admit it was his fault. He could not move more than a few steps before his body would all but give out, and therefore, his nephews took it upon themselves to assist him. They stood at Thorin's sides, his arms slung around their shoulders as he fought with every fiber of his being not to yell out as his wounds were jarred by every movement. Cold sweat gathered on his brow and down his back, and he blinked against his blurring vision, struggling to keep moving as it darkened around the edges with each step.

When finally they reached the bottom, it was clear to all present they would not be moving any further that day. Thorin's breathing was heavy and shallow, and his face had gone a disturbing pale green. Oin cornered him as soon as they had hit ground, determined to see to his wounds. 

“You're not getting out of this, Thorin Oakenshield! You are in obvious agony and I won't have infection setting in and claiming our king!”

Thorin grumbled in response, unable to muster the strength for any more of an argument than that. 

With a satisfied huff, Oin set to work. Dwalin helped the healer remove the king's gauntlets and heavy coat, then began working at his armor. It took a bit of time, but between the two of them, they managed to strip Thorin down to his under tunic, and Oin grumbled when he saw the bruised flesh beneath. 

“Lucky you've not been completely skewered,” the healer groused.

“It feels as though I have,” Thorin grumbled in reply. Dwalin helped him to the ground where Balin and Fili had arranged a few of their cloaks for comfort. He laid back and left the healer to his work. The healer's touch was a bit less than gentle, but Thorin didn't seem to notice. His mind was elsewhere, lamenting unspoken promises and what might have been.

* * * * *

_Smoke curled up into the star-strewn sky. The wind was cool as it blew across Thorin's face, rustling his beard and bringing him relief from the heat of his body confined in a burlap sack._

_The trolls had been a horrible surprise for Thorin and company. He was enraged at the thought that they would reach their end this way, eaten by stupid trolls before they came anywhere close to the mountain._

_How had it come to this?_

_Thorin stewed as the trolls began roasting most of his company over a campfire. The smell of burnt hair filled his nose, and he couldn't believe their path had led them to this. Friends and relatives tied to a spit and roasted like wild game. He was having a very difficult time accepting their fate, his pride was severally wounded and guilt weighed heavily at the thought that he had led the most loyal dwarves in all of Arda to their death._

_The king's self loathing was interrupted by Bilbo's voice near him. Thorin frowned and looked up at the hobbit, who was addressing the trolls before them. Bilbo, the stupid soft creature, was trying to instruct the trolls how best to cook them._

_Thorin felt his rage building, until it hit him.___  
_Of course._  
_The hobbit was stalling, and, more importantly now, trying to convince the trolls that all of the company were infested with worms_

_ __ _

_How had such thoughts ever occurred to this creature? Who comes up with something like that? Thorin smirked as Bilbo continued to badger and confuse their captors. He would never have expected the timid pudgy creature would ever have the backbone to converse so casually with three fully grown trolls._

_ __ _

_Gandalf's voice may have been the voice of Mahal himself when it echoed over the camp. The boulder splitting in two, showering the trolls in sunlight was the most beautiful sight Thorin had ever seen. He grinned as the light hit his face, grateful for their turn in fortune._

_ __ _

_The dwarves freed each other, collecting belongings and weapons and setting themselves to rights again. A few of them sported singed hair, but it could have been much worse._

_ __ _

_Thorin looked over his company, reassuring himself they were all whole. His mind wandered as he stood, the morning breeze ruffling his hair. How had a mountain troll escaped Fili and Kili's notice? How was it their ponies were stolen right from under their noses? And, why in the name of Durin's beard had that hobbit agreed to face the trolls alone in the first place? He wasn't sure if it was Bilbo or his nephews he was more furious with. With an angry huff at all of them, he turned and stormed off to find a little peace._

_ __ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! New chapter next week.  
Let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovies!  
Here's another chapter for ya, time to check in with Bilbo! Hope you like!  
All mistakes are mine! There are bound to be many, and you can’t have any of them!

Bilbo fought against the darkness pulling at him. His vision was swimming, and he couldn't make out what was before him in the dense foliage. It took every ounce of his being to keep his legs moving, one agonizing step after another, as he picked his was through the unfamiliar wooded landscape.

Bilbo was sure it had been hours since his escape. He had run down rocky hillsides, the sharp scuffs of rock and stone tore at the flesh of his ankles as he skittered and stumbled. Now, he had been running through trees, though he knew not for how long. The dense grove seemed to span on forever, and Bilbo knew he didn't have forever left in him. His legs were numb, his heartbeat pounding in his ears as he sruggled to catch his breath. His steps faltered as he came around a tree and suddenly found himself at the edge of an open field. He staggered as his lungs burned for air, his body mostly numb from the scrapes and bruises and freezing cold biting at his flesh. The hobbit fell to his knees, panting and gasping in the moonlight, before he was plunged into darkness. 

There was wind blowing refreshingly over his face. He struggled to pry his eyes opened and take in the sky above him, obscured by a concerned and frantic Dori. 

“Oh thank heavens,” Dori breathed as Bilbo's eyes focused on the old dwarf. “Rest now, Master Baggins. You're safe.”

Bilbo took the words to heart and let his eyes fall closed, resting his head against the dwarf who held him securely astride the great bird.

“Master Baggins?” 

A voice... a voice tugging at Bilbo, urging him to shake the pleasant embrace of sleep.

“Master Baggins?”

Bilbo frowned, his eyes pinching tightly closed as he slowly became aware of himself. His feet ached, as did most of him, now that he thought about it, and he felt very heavy indeed. 

“Bilbo?” 

Bilbo worked against the sticky dryness of his mouth, urging some semblance of sound to come forth.  
“Balin?” the hobbit finally managed to squint his eyes open, revealing three eager faces hovering over him. 

Dori, Balin, and Kili were leaning over Bilbo's face, all donning identical looks of concern. 

“You gave us a right scare,” Kili declared.

“Mmph,” Bilbo responded. He rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms, noting every cut and bruise as they quickly made themselves known. 

“Move aside, move aside!” Oin's voice called out as other members of the company were shoved unceremoniously to the side so the healer could check Bilbo over himself.  
“How ya feeling, laddie?” the healer asked as he took Kili's place at Bilbo's side.

“Sore. And- and cold,” Bilbo mumbled. “Hungry.”

Oin nodded. “Gloin and Bombur are getting a fire started. The skin changer made soup tonight. We're warming some up for you now.”

Bilbo frowned. “Skin changer?”

“Beorn. This is his home.”

Bilbo looked around, realizing for the first time that they weren't outdoors. Instead, the company were gathered in a rather large room with a hearth at one end. It was cozy, and though a bit rustic for Bilbo's taste, quite homey. 

“Probably not a bad idea for you to wash before I bandage you up, so long as you think you're alright to move around,” Oin suggested kindly. “There are baths out back.”

“Yes. Yes I'll just...” Bilbo's voice wavered a bit as he struggled to roll up to sitting.

“Here, let me help ya!” Bofur was suddenly at Bilbo's side, eagerly reaching out to help him from the floor.

“Thank you, Bofur. I very much appreciate it,” the hobbit said with a small smile.

Bilbo didn't bother to look around as Bofur led him to the baths. He didn't want to see the looks of pity or annoyance on the faces of the rest of the company. He was sure they were all pretty aggravated with him at the moment. 

Getting caught by orcs. What a sure way to slow their progress! Probably they would be insistent on leaving him here with this Beorn fellow. Nobody would want to keep an injured and foolish hobbit along now they had lost so much time. 

Bilbo's soured thoughts continued as he was led through the dark to a separate bathing shed near the main house. Bofur opened the door and helped the hobbit into the dark room. The floor was smooth beneath Bilbo's feet, the air wet and warm. There was a bit of fumbling as Bofur grabbed the torch from its bracket on the wall, and the place was filled with golden light when the dwarf used it to light two large oil lamps in the middle of the room. 

Bilbo was taken by surprise as he looked around. The floor was stone, and it occurred to him that they were not in a wooden shed as he had thought, but rather in a cave in the hillside. In the floor were three separate baths, or springs rather, the water inside emitting wisps of steam into the frigid air. 

“Hot springs,” Bilbo declared softly.

Bofur gave him a grin. “Aye. They'll do ya some good! Maybe ease your hurts a bit,” the cheerful dwarf suggested. “Are ya needin help getting in?”

“No, no I think I can manage,” Bilbo answered. “But you will stay here with me?” he threw out with a nervous glance at the dwarf. The hobbit was feeling quite uneasy at the thought of being left alone. Being a captive of orcs for 24 hours had stolen a bit of his previous bravery.

“Oh aye! I'll stay right here, long as ya like!” Bofur sat himself down right on the floor of the cavern as if to emphasis his point. 

Bilbo smiled at his enthusiastic friend before he readied himself for his bath. 

The water was heavenly. It stung a bit on broken skin, soothed Bilbo's muscles and warmed his bones as he soaked in its embrace. He sighed as the tension in his body finally loosened its hold, and the dwarf seated nearby chuckled. 

“Feel better?” Bofur asked good naturedly.

“Yes. Yes a little.” There was still fear in Bilbo's voice, and Bofur hated to hear it.  
“I would like to go back inside now,” the hobbit was tensing again, as though he couldn't let himself fully relax. Given what he had been through, Bofur supposed it was to be expected. He took Bilbo's hand and helped ease him up out of the water. He quickly wrapped a towel around the now shaking hobbit, patting his back a bit.

“Bilbo?”

“I'm fine.” Bilbo yanked his clothes on, determined not to fall apart just yet. He could wait until later. Later when the company were all asleep. He buttoned his shirt as quickly as his trembling fingers would allow, turning to his friend with a hard expression. 

“Ready then?” Bofur asked, growing more concerned at the look of Bilbo now that the shock had begun to wear off.

Bilbo nodded and they made their way back to the house. The air was much cooler on Bilbo's damp skin, and he rushed through the darkness to get back to the warmth of the cabin, Bofur sticking close behind him.

“Come Bilbo, we saved you a spot,” Kili waved the hobbit over from his seat near the fire when Bofur and the hobbit entered the room. 

Bilbo's cold expression thawed a bit. It was nice to see that he was still wanted, at least by Kili. His smile grew when he noticed Ori, Fili, Dori, and Bombur seated around the hearth, all looking at him and smiling kindly. Gloin and Bifur were sitting farther from the merry gathering, deep in conversation, but Bilbo paid them no mind. He walked right over to his friends and dropped down between Fili and Kili, bracing himself against the enthusiastic hugs he was met with. 

“Alright boys, easy, I'm bruised up a bit you know,” Bilbo chastised half-heartedly.

“Leave off, youngins! Master Baggins has been through the ringer,” Dori scolded. 

“It was right brave of you,” Bombur began, “coming to the defense of our king that way.” The big dwarf shook his head before meeting Bilbo's eye sincerely. “I am sorry we didn't stop them taking you.”

There was a sharp inhale of breath as Bilbo attempted to school his features. He looked up at the warm hearted dwarf from where he was packed in between the princes. 

“Yes, well,” Bilbo cleared is throat, “it's over now, isn't it?” He tried to give a reassuring grin to the eager faces turned at him, but he didn't quite manage it.

“Tell us what happened!” Kili blurted, obviously having kept the question to himself for as long as he could possibly stand.

“Oh- well... well...” Bilbo took a deep breath, readying himself for the tale. He wasn't sure he could tell it at all, but the eager grins from the younger ones convinced him to try.  
“As the eagles took off with you lot, Azog threw me over his warg and hauled me away to a cave in the hills. They.....”  
Bilbo grew silent for a moment, trying to hold on to his story-telling voice, fighting the terror that tried to overwhelm him at the memories. With a determined air, he separated himself from the words, considering it a story he used to tell the young hobbits of the Shire.  
“They tied me to a post,,” he began, his voice low and face animated with all the flair of a master story teller, “my hands behind my back and secured with rope. This is where they made their first mistake. See, they didn't think to check a lowly hobbit for weapons.”  
Bilbo was swept up a bit in the telling now, the younger dwarf's leaning forward in their excitement. The hobbit grinned as he noticed Nori standing in the corner, a bit away from the group, watching and listening intently.  
“Nori here,” Bilbo called the dwarf out, “had fit me with a dagger. Small thing, and he helped me strap it inside the bottom of my hem not days before,” Bilbo pulled up the bottom of his trouser leg, revealing the dagger strapped to him. 

“Oy! That's my dagger!” Fili shouted. “I've been looking for that for weeks! Convinced I lost it running from orcs!”

“Well it saved my life, and I'll thank you for it,” Bilbo responded smartly, refusing to apologize as the tool had saved his life.

“You can have it. I've got more,” Fili said, defeated.

“What happened next, Bilbo?” Ori asked as Kili elbowed Fili into silence.

“I waited them out, waited until they were all asleep, then I slipped the dagger out and freed myself,” Bilbo finished. “That's when Dori found me running through the woods.”

“Back already?” Oin's voice came from the hall to the left as the healer walked into the room. “Best I have a look at ya, now you're all cleaned up!”

“How's uncle look?” Fili asked the healer.

“He's had much worse,” Oin answered with a shrug. He led the hobbit off to a spare room to tend to his wounds and bruises in peace.

* * * * *

_After the incident with the trolls, Bilbo found a much more tolerable Thorin as reward for his efforts. The king had gone off to brood for an hour or so after their ordeal, but when he returned, he was a completely different dwarf. Bilbo even thought there may be a spring in the moody king's step as he ordered the company to ready themselves to press on._

_It was a long day of walking, the company endured. At times, Bilbo wondered if his legs might fall off. His occasional walking holidays could not have prepared him for this, and since their ponies had run off at this point, there was nothing for it._

_“We shall rest here,” Thorin announced, stopping the company just after midday._

_Winded as Bilbo was, he wondered at the sudden mercy of the dwarf king. He had been sure they would not stop until nightfall, and he wondered if maybe Thorin were injured. He gave the dwarf a questioning look as he passed by to look over the company. Thorin caught Bilbo's confused eye, and he smiled._

_Thorin smiled._  
_At Bilbo._  
_Smiled._

_The hobbit's bewilderment only grew as the dwarf passed by. What was that all about?_

_After a bit of a rest, Bilbo's feet had stopped throbbing quite so much, and he leaned back against a tree, grateful to catch his breath. He closed his eyes for a moment and let the sounds of the company talking and laughing wash over him in a now familiar hum._

_What a merry band, they made. Bilbo was becoming fond of them all, and he was glad he had decided to come. Being a bachelor for so long made for quite a lonesome life. He was smiling softly to himself as a breeze ruffled his hair. Then, he was thrown into shadow, the golden glow of the sun through his eyelids abruptly cut off._

_Bilbo's eyes opened quickly in concern, and he found Thorin standing over him, casting the hobbit in shadow. The dwarf gave him a pointed look, raising his eyebrows in question._  
_Bilbo frowned. What was he on about now?_

_“Ready burglar?” the dwarf asked softly, leaning in so they wouldn't be overheard._

_Bilbo quirked a grin, nodding lightly as he got to his feet. Thorin clapped him gently on the shoulder with a warm and heavy hand before turning to the rest of the company._  
_“Let's move,” he announced, and the dwarves all rose to their feet and they headed off again._

_Bilbo became a bit giddy, knowing Thorin seemed to be looking out for him. He found the dwarf in question throwing him calculating glances regularly through the rest of the day, eyes sweeping over him to be sure he wasn't struggling to keep up. When Bilbo would seem to fumble, Thorin's pace would slow, the rest of the company following their king's example. The concern of the dwarf made Bilbo push himself all the harder, knowing if he reached his limit, Thorin would stop for him._

_As the sun began to drop below the horizon, and the chill of night was on the air, Thorin halted the company, ordering a fire built and sending Dwalin to oversee Kili, Fili, and Ori gathering firewood. He wasn't about to let the princes out of his sight without supervision again._

_Bilbo chuckled at the thought that the two princes, who by rights were older than Bilbo, needed to be supervised lest they be taken by surprise by trolls again. He shook his head and looked around, searching for a good place to sit near where Bombur and Bifur were preparing a pit for their fire. The rest of the company had already settled in, and Bilbo wanted to be sure he got a little warmth this night. Bofur brought some kindling over, and he and the other two were quickly building a small flame that would soon be a beacon of heat against the cold._

_Bilbo glanced around again, and noticed Thorin giving him another of his pointed looks. Bilbo watched as the dwarf reached over next to him and moved his pack around behind him, leaving a perfect hobbit sized space right next to the growing fire._

_Bilbo grinned and quickly moved to take the offered space, grateful beyond belief at the Thorin's generosity. He dropped to the ground with a sigh of relief as the flames began to build in heat. He was glad he was sitting, as his knees would surely have wobbled if he had not been when Thorin gave him a warm grin before he got up to go check on his nephews._

_Bilbo would never have guessed the dwarf king would change his opinion of him so quickly. He found it surprisingly easy to fall asleep that night, as the bite of the cold and loneliness of dark could not reach him, tucked as he was so comfortably between Thorin and the fire._

* * * * *

_The next night was not so easy. The company had been quick and far too eager to have the warmth close as the day had been quite cold, and the night promised to be worse. Bilbo huddled under his blanket, where he had been struggling to stop his shivering long enough to fall asleep. His toes and fingers were numb, and he was gaining a headache with all his teeth chattering. Great tremors rocked through his body, his muscles aching as they tensed against the frigid night air._

_A heavy fall of footsteps passed Bilbo as Dwalin walked by to trade shifts for watch. Bilbo covered his face, trying to muffle his chattering so the dwarf could hopefully find sleep once he gained his bedroll._

_It was all for naught. No matter how hard he tried, Bilbo could not stop shivering. He was about to give up and simply go sit with whoever was on watch next, when something heavy and thick landed on him. He pulled the fur lined blanket from over his head, looking down at it in bewilderment, before he noticed that Thorin was standing over him. The dwarf removed his cloak and laid it on top of the blanket he had just thrown over Bilbo, not quite containing the small smile that played about his lips as the hobbit looked up at him questioningly. Thorin moved on without explanation and sat watch in the cold night air._

_Bilbo had slept more deeply that night than he had since they'd left his hobbit hole. Thorin's scent played about his nose as he nuzzled deeply into the fur lined cloak, still warm from Thorin's body heat. Perhaps it could be possible the two had become friends._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More next week!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo..... here's another chapter. I have to admit, I have a vague idea of where I'm going with this, but not entirely. I really hope you are enjoying this fic, things may get a bit ridiculous as we get further into it.

Thorin didn't care what the others said. He most certainly was not sulking. He simply wished to be alone! What business was it of theirs if he decided to take advantage of the privacy Beorn's home alloted him? He spent his days and nights in his room. The damage to his ribs kept him from moving much anyway, and really, he didn't feel like having the company nattering around him when he was in this state. 

If he were honest, Thorin knew he was simply avoiding the hobbit. Nori had come to him several nights before, telling him of Bilbo's tale. How he had barely escaped the orcs. Thorin knew it could so easily have been ended then. The orcs had but to decide not to wait, and kill Bilbo the night he was taken. There would have been no escape for the hobbit. Bilbo's capture and rescue only served to make the dwarf all the more aware of how he felt for the hobbit.  
And it scared Thorin half to death.  
There was no room for dalliances and mooning over the company burglar on this quest. Time was of the essence, and they had wasted enough of it. Thorin set his jaw and rose from his bed, determined to see them ready to leave by dawn. 

It took a lot of argument, but Thorin finally convinced Balin and Gandalf that leaving would be in their best interest. He returned to his room, alone for one last night as the company slept in the main hall. 

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, they would head out, and everything would be as it was.

How very wrong Thorin had been. 

Nothing was the same as it had been before the hobbit had been captured. Thorin couldn't even look Bilbo in the eye without being consumed by anger and fear and guilt. The bruising and cuts on the hobbit's arms and shins, the black eye the hobbit was now sporting, all reminded Thorin of how he had failed.  
How he had let their burglar be captured and how he had almost lost him.  
And how his heart seemed to seize up every time he thought about it.  
He kept his pony clear of the hobbit all throughout the day. By nightfall, he had no choice but to order them to stop and make camp. The company made it no secret they were ready to make camp, and they could go no further anyway, dark as it was. 

“Bofur, start the fire. Nori, Kili, see what game you can scare up. And Dwalin? You and Fili find some firewood,” Thorin barked at his men. They were quick to comply, catching on to the king's foul mood. 

“Thorin?” the king grimaced at Bilbo's tentative voice. “Thorin, may I speak with you?”

Thorin turned slowly to face the hobbit. His tried to keep his face from screwing up in pain as he forced himself to look at Bilbo, taking in his various injuries. 

“What do you want, Bilbo?” Thorin kept his voice as level as he could manage through his clenched teeth. 

“I- I only wish to apologize.”

“For what?” Thorin grit out, turning to busy himself with his pack and avoid looking at the hobbit any longer than necessary.

“For getting... captured... and- and slowing you down-”

Thorin's shoulders tensed and his breath caught at the wave of shame and anger that hit him.  
“What were you thinking?!” Thorin roared, unable to contain the roiling tide of emotion any longer. He turned to face the wide eyed hobbit, trying to not notice how his hands shook.  
“You could've been killed! It is beyond me how you even managed- I could never- if they had-” Thorin stammered angrily, “I KNEW LETTING YOU JOIN US WOULD BE A TERRIBLE MISTAKE!” He turned and stormed off, leaving a terrified hobbit frozen in shock at his back.

* * * * *

Thorin sat next to a tree some way from the group. He couldn't see them from where he sat, but he could hear his men talking and laughing as they ate. It was enough to tell him they were safe.

Thorin wasn't an idiot. Or rather, not a complete idiot. He knew he had been hard on Bilbo. The hobbit didn't deserve his anger, or his horrid temper. It was dishonorable that Thorin had treated one who had save his life so harshly. Thorin bit back the extra wave of guilt his outburst had blanketed over him. It hovered over him like a dark cloud, one he couldn't seem to shake, and smothered his previous anger into heavy overwhelming sorrow. 

How very like him to make a difficult situation nearly impossible. 

Thorin sighed in resignation, dropping his head back against the tree trunk. How would he ever fix this? 

“It's a cold night for brooding, My King,” Balin's voice was low and laced with a hint that he knew something Thorin would rather pretend he didn't.

“I'm not brooding. Just keeping watch,” Thorin responded stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Of course,” Balin responded. He turned to look at Thorin with a twinkle in his eye. “And this would have nothing to do with a certain hobbit.”

Thorin scowled at his friend and advisor in response.

“I thought not,” Balin sighed. “Thorin, there is nothing wrong with fearing for the safety of another.”

Thorin huffed stubbornly. “Never said there was.”

“It is also not your fault he was captured.”

Thorin shot Balin a reproachful look.  
“How can you say that? It was by my actions that Bilbo was put in harm's way! My decisions led to the halfling having to step in lest I be killed!”

“In which case, you owe him a life debt. But you are not to blame for his injuries. He acquired those willingly. He decided to take that risk, you did not force his hand.”

Thorin scowled and looked away, refusing to respond. 

“You would do well to remember, your actions now are critical in setting the path for the future. Bilbo does not know what you are thinking. The assumptions he makes now may not be in your best interest. At the very least, he does not deserve your ire.”  
With that, the old dwarf went back to join the company, leaving Thorin to his woe.

The company had gone silent by the time Thorin returned, everyone already settled into their bedrolls. Bofur sat on watch, and he nodded to Thorin as the king took to his own blankets. He lay silent for a while, begging sleep to claim him. 

“What're you doin awake?” Thorin frowned and glanced up at Bofur as the dwarf's voice startled him. He had assumed the toymaker was talking to him, and was preparting to answer when he was interrupted.

“Can't sleep,” Bilbo's voice was heavy with misery, and Thorin's heart clenched at the sound.

“How come? Thought you'd be exhausted.”

“I am. I- I can't shake it. The feeling of being watched. I've not felt safe since...... that. And- and now Thorin.... now Thorin is furious....” Bilbo's voice wavered as he responded, leaving an even bigger pit of guilt in Thorin's stomach.

“Now lad, don't think to hard on it. Thorin is..... He's not very good with emotions. They all come out angery.” Bofur shrugged. “If I were to guess, I would say he feels responsible.”

“He's not to blame. He didn't tell them to.... to...” Bilbo gestured vaguely with his hand, before shaking his head with determination. “Anyway, it doesn't matter.”

“Bilbo, do you need to talk about it?” the concern in Bofur's voice ate at Thorin. It should be he who offered Bilbo comfort and understanding in his time of need.

There was the sound of sniffling before Bilbo answered.  
“They were going to eat me, which I suppose is nothing new on this journey,”  
Bilbo shrugged his shoulders, feigning indifference.  
“They... they took turns... knocking me around. Said it would slow me down if I escaped in the night,” Bilbo's tone was conversational, though Thorin could hear the emotion the hobbit failed to completely smother.  
“They...” Bilbo swallowed. “They were going to break my legs. Then they would..... they were arguing over... over who got to eat which parts of me. But Azog...”  
The fear in Bilbo's voice nearly shattered Thorin, and he cringed as it hit his ears.  
“Azog said it would be best... would be better to hold on to me... to keep me to use against Thorin. He- he told me what he would do with him. How he would torture him after making him watch me die...”  
Bilbo's voice broke on a breathy sob, and Thorin could see his hands shaking as Bofur put an arm around the distraught hobbit.

“Shh shh shh... it's alri' now. They'll never lay a hand on you again.”

“Do you think he will forgive me, Bofur?” Bilbo lamented.

“He'll calm down after a time. Don't let it get to ya,” Bofur attempted to sound cheerful, but he couldn't quite manage it through his own anger at their king.

Thorin's stomach dropped as he realized the extent of the damage inflicted on the hobbit. Not only would he sport the visible proof of his capture for at least several days, the poor hobbit was emotionally bruised, perhaps permanently.  
And Thorin had only made things worse.

* * * * *

_The water was cold, but the company didn't seem to mind. They had carried on far too long without a bath, and many of them were a bit ripe. This was nothing new to the dwarves, and most of them weren't all too bothered by their stench. Perhaps they felt it united them, or it was proof of their loyalty and sacrifice for their people. But when Bilbo had begun to make it a point to avoid walking too close to any one of them, Thorin decided it was time for a stop._

_And it had nothing to do with the fact that the hobbit wouldn't come near him, no matter what Dwalin said._

_Thorin sat on the bank near the little river, keeping watch while the others bathed. Bilbo was in up to his waist, and Thorin watched as the hobbit crouched down to scrub at his hair. He chuckled to himself when he caught sight of Fili and Kili creeping ever closer behind the hobbit. Fili hoisted his brother into the air, letting Kili push off his chest with his feet. The younger dwarf came crashing into the river right next to Bilbo, sending a wave of water over the shrieking hobbit's head._

_“Oh, you're going to pay for that one!” Bilbo declared as Thorin's sister-sons scrambled away laughing._

_Bilbo pulled a handful of sand and algae from the bottom of the river and flung it at the princes._

_“Bilbo it's in my beard!” Fili lamented as he and Kili assessed the damage._

_“That will teach the two of you to mess with a Baggins!” Bilbo shouted._

_“Well now you've messed with a Durin!” Kili yelled back as he and Fili circled the hobbit._

_Bilbo shrieked as Fili grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms to his side as Kili went in for the kill. The dark haired prince was taken aback when the hobbit began to kick, splashing water every which way._

_Thorin laughed, delighted to see his nephews and the hobbit enjoying themselves so much. It brought him great pleasure to see them so happy._

_“Going to get cleaned up as well?” Dwalin's voice came from somewhere over Thorin's left shoulder, startling the king a bit._

_“Aye. Just waiting for someone to take over watch,” Thorin responded._

_“Watching what? Watching for trouble? Or watching that hobbit splash around with your nephews?” Dwalin teased._

_Thorin chuckled. “Fili and Kili are most amusing. You know I love to watch them play. It reminds me of a simpler time. When they were little, before they were old enough to insist on joining this quest. It is not easy for me to think of them as adults.”_

_Dwalin nodded. “Aye. It's no easy feat, that. Just as hard for me to look at them as something other than the wee badgers they were in Ered Luin. But, there's time getting away from us again I suppose.” He looked down and nudged Thorin with his boot. “But I dare say that's not what's drawn your eye,” he gave the king a suggestive wink._

_Thorin smacked the big dwarf's leg with a scowl._

_Dwalin chuckled and headed a bit further upstream. He turned back and gave Thorin an impatient look. “Ya comin?”_

_Thorin nodded with a sigh. “Yes, yes I'll be along.”_

_Dwalin sauntered off as Thorin got himself off the ground. He brushed the dirt from his trousers and stood, nearly colliding into Bilbo._  


_“Oh, I'm sorry Thorin,” Bilbo moved to let the dwarf by, but Thorin stood motionless before him._  


_Thorin's eyes raked over the hobbit, taking in the tempting sight. The sun glistened on Bilbo's curls, water dripping from them and running over his smooth pale shoulders. The light shining through the leaves above cast a green glow about them, making Bilbo's eyes reflect emerald and gold. The effect was enchanting. He watched a drop of water run over Bilbo's soft pink lips, causing Thorin to lick his own._  


_“Thorin?” Bilbo's voice sounded a bit amused as the dwarf shook his head._  


_“Sorry, I was... I was just thinking.”_  


_Bilbo narrowed his eyes skeptically. “Right, then. I'll just...” he gestured vaguely toward camp, moving hesitantly toward the others._  


_Thorin groaned inwardly at his lack of composure. He rubbed at his forehead in agitation as he made his way to the river's edge._  


_The cold water would be just what he needed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you like this so far! I don't have a ton of time to write lately, so I'm kind of throwing shit together here.  
Thanks for reading! More next week!


	5. Chapter 5

The days had gotten easier, but the nights were still hard for Bilbo. Fear was a constant companion, and with it came the anxiety of one being hunted. He didn't sleep much, but he could always seek the companionship of whoever was on watch.  
Except for Thorin.  
Bilbo would feign sleep whenever it was the king's turn to keep watch. They hadn't spoken since the night before they had entered Mirkwood, when Thorin had yelled at him, and Bilbo had no intention of repeating that interaction. 

Mirkwood seemed to be making things all the more horrible, the darkness of the forest deeper and more unsettling than was natural. The air was thick and heavy, and Bilbo felt as though he were choking on it. The sensation of being watched only intensified in the overwhelming trees that seemed to never end. It felt as though they had been in the forest for weeks, or maybe even months. Bilbo couldn't be sure. The days all ran together in this forsaken place. 

Bilbo rolled over again in his bedroll, huffing in agitation. The lack of sleep was beginning to wear on the hobbit, yet he couldn't bring himself to close his eyes. He knew the twisted faces of orcs would be waiting the moment he let his lids fall closed.

In any case, Bilbo was too on edge beneath the dark and ominous canopy. He sat up, abandoning his attempt at sleep, and rose to find out who was on watch. Perhaps he could find a bit of conversation this night. He picked his away over and around the snoring members of the company, working his way to the middle where the dwarves had managed to coax a small and pitiful fire from a few dry branches. 

Bilbo was happy to find it was Balin sitting watch at this hour. He gave Bilbo a nod in welcome as the hobbit came to find a seat near the flames. 

“Still not sleeping, laddie?” the white haired dwarf asked.

Bilbo shook his head lightly. “No. I can't seem to relax long enough to fall asleep.”

“How many nights has it been?”

Bilbo frowned. “I can't be sure. I do manage an hour here and there most nights,” he added, as though the fact would erase his level of exhaustion.

“It is not nearly enough. Especially on the road. We all need to be on alert and at our best,” Balin looked at Bilbo attentively. “What is it that keeps you from sleep?”

Bilbo sighed, fidgeting with the frayed edge of his jacket sleeve. He huffed and looked up at the dwarf with resolve.  
“I am afraid, Balin,” he explained in a low voice, “I am afraid of being captured again. I fear Azog will find me, and I will put the entire company in danger.”

Balin nodded thoughtfully. 

“And... and I'm filled with guilt,” Bilbo confessed. 

“Guilt?” Balin gave the hobbit an incredulous look. “Whatever for?”

“For... for slowing the company down.” Bilbo lamented, folding his hands in his lap. “Thorin is so angry with me.”

“Lad, I want you to listen to me,” Balin's face grew stern as his gaze resolutely held Bilbo's. “You were captured saving the life of our king,” he gestured to the company snoring peacefully on the ground behind them. “There is not one dwarf here who holds that against you. If it weren't for you, Thorin would have been killed,” he place his hand gently on Bilbo's. “He owes you a life debt and should be groveling at your feet.” 

Balin's voice was firm, as though daring the hobbit to argue. He took his hand from Bilbo's, leaning back and pulling out his pipe. 

Bilbo swallowed thickly, frowning at the dancing flames as he processed Balin's words. After a time, he shifted a bit and looked up at the wizened dwarf.

“A life debt?” he queried, rubbing his hands together in thought. “And- and that is... a serious thing for a dwarf?”

Balin nodded gravely, taking a pull from his pipe. He blew out the smoke, watching it linger for a moment in the heavy still air.  
“It is no small thing, putting your life in danger to save another,” he glanced at the hobbit, the corner of his mouth pulling up in a small smile. “A dwarf holds such heroic actions in high honor.”

“Then, why is he so cross with me?”

Balin sighed, his face falling and shoulders slumping in defeat.  
“I'm sorry, laddie. You'll have to ask him.”

Bilbo's gaze shifted down uneasily. The thought of trying to speak to Thorin again tied his stomach in knots almost as much as the thought of facing Azog again. 

“Don't fret too much about it, lad. Thorin will come to you if you decide not to speak with him first. He knows your value, and he is grateful.” The old dwarf gave him a smile he could only return half-heartedly. 

“What if he doesn't?” Bilbo asked in a near whisper.

There was a twinkle in Balin's eye as he regarded the hobbit.  
“Oh believe me lad, he will.”

* * * * *

_Bilbo sat near the fire, watching the dwarves as they wound down for the evening. Oin, Gloin, Dori, Balin, and Bombur had already bed down for the night, while the rest sat quietly around the cheerfully crackling flame. Ori was knitting what looked like a scarf, while next to him Fili and Kili sat with their heads together, plotting most likely._

_Bifur and Bofur were nearby, talking softly and smoking. Bofur would fill the silence with his infectious laugh every so often, the two obviously amusing each other. Nori sat by himself, his legs stretched out before him as he leaned back against a log, seemingly deep in thought._

_On the other side of their little camp near the edge of the cliff they had settled on, Thorin and Dwalin stood talking. Bilbo could not hear the conversation, but Dwalin looked aggravated with their leader. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his fierce face. Bilbo watched as the larger dwarf threw his hands up and turned away, storming off toward his bedroll where he grumbled and slid beneath his blanket, huffing as he threw himself down onto his makeshift pillow. Thorin sauntered a few paces from where they had stood and sat on a large flat boulder near the edge of the cliff, overlooking the dark landscape. He had his back to the company, and Bilbo could see by his rigid posture that he was troubled._

_Bilbo glanced around, making sure his absence wouldn't be noticed before he made his way over to Thorin. He came to stand off to the side of the dwarf, unsure of what he would say or what had pulled him to approach Thorin._

_Thorin glanced up at the hobbit, then moved over a bit to make room for Bilbo to sit next to him. He grinned as the hobbit hesitated, then settled himself rigidly at Thorin's side._

_Bilbo sat a bit stiffly, his proximity to the dwarf making him a bit nervous for some reason, but Thorin seemed perfectly at ease. He pulled out his pipe and a pouch of pipe weed, filling the bowl and lighting it before offering it to Bilbo._

_Bilbo accepted the offered pipe, glad to have something to do with his hands for a moment. He couldn't shake the nerves that always seemed to come with being near the king. His breathing felt uneven and his heart fluttered a bit, his skin prickling uneasily where his leg rested against Thorin's strong thigh._

_Kili's abrupt laughter pulled both their attention. They turned around to see that the prince had managed to wrap Ori's extra yarn around the scribes feet, and Ori had fallen back onto the log behind him and toppled over when he had tried to stand. Bilbo chuckled when Dwalin's angry voice broke through Kili's laughter. The bald dwarf rose from his bedroll, coming to the tangled Ori's aid as he barked angrily at Kili, who fled to his own bedroll on the other side of camp._

_Bilbo chuckled as he and Thorin turned back around._

_“What am I going to do with him?” Thorin mused._

_“He's a good lad. Just a bit high spirited,” Bilbo reassured._

_“He's a trouble maker, is what he is,” Thorin gave the hobbit a sidelong look, his amusement still plain. He looked away and sighed. “I often wonder if I should have left him behind.”_

_Bilbo shook his head. “I know him well enough by now to know he would never have stayed. He would follow you to the ends of Arda, he and his brother.”_

_Thorin gave him a knee weakening crooked grin._  
_“I know. His mother tried to convince me to change my mind. Leave he and Fili with her in Ered Luin.” He shook his head. “I couldn't do it. Erebor is their birthright, as sure as it is mine. It will belong to Fili, after I'm gone, and he has every right to help reclaim it. His rule will be more secure if he is involved in the reclamation. Our people will respect him more deeply for it, as he is due.”_

_Bilbo smiled at the depth of the king's love for his nephews, warmed that Thorin was opening up to him this way._  
_“Tell me of your sister,” he urged the dwarf._

_“What of her?” Thorin's tone was warm, and the assessing look he gave Bilbo left the hobbit feeling bare._

_Bilbo looked down, unable to hold that burning blue gaze for too long._  
_“W-What is she like?”_

_Thorin sighed, laying down on their rock to survey the impossibly vast stars.  
“Dis,” he chuckled lightly, “what could I say of Dis?” he shook his head, smiling openly at the skies. “She is much like me, but lacks my charming and patient disposition.”_

_Bilbo snorted, and Thorin chuckled, giving him a sidelong glance._

_“Dis is stubborn,” Thorin continued, turning his gaze skyward again, “as is true for most of our race. She loves her family fiercely, and she is frightening when in a temper.”_

_“That does sound familiar,” Bilbo quipped, raising a brow at the dwarf._

_“Aye,” Thorin agreed with a smile. “but even I would not cross her.”_

_The two laughed for a few moments, before their chuckles died down, and Bilbo found Thorin staring at him intensely with a warm and enticing grin. It did things to Bilbo's heart he was not in any way ready to examine, and sent a shiver of excitement up his spine. He shifted his gaze away, clearing his throat pointedly._

_“She must be quite a 'dam,” Bilbo mused, wiping his sweaty palms on his trouser legs, “her sons are fine boys, and, well, if she's anything like you, she must be pig-headed, cocky, haughty....” he swallowed, looking down at his lap. “A-and strong, wonderful and brave, and loyal beyond belief.”_

_Thorin huffed another chuckle. “Indeed she is.”_

_Bilbo smiled to himself. It felt nice, sitting with Thorin this way. He laid back next to the dwarf, his heart stammering in his chest as his arm settled alongside Thorin's. He could feel the heat of the dwarf's skin through the sleeves of his jacket, and his throat was suddenly very dry indeed. He looked up at Thorin, blushing when the dwarf smiled down at him. He quickly averted his eyes, grinning in spite of his nerves, a thrill running through him as he lay next to Thorin, watching the stars._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying this so far! Please let me know!


	6. Chapter 6

The dungeon was dark, a single torch created a small pool of light down at the end of the hallway. The cell was musty and damp, with no windows or link to the outside world. The air was cold and heavy with the smell of mildew and wet earth.

Thorin sat with his back against the wall, his legs stretched out before him as he watched the end of the dark hall in anticipation. He couldn't be certain, but he thought it was nearing time for the elves to feed him. 

It had been the only interaction he had during these countless days, and they consisted of no more than a distant look from a haughty elf, then Thorin would sneer at them anger. The elf would wait for Thorin to push his empty tray beneath the bars of his cell, his new tray would replace it, and the elf would leave. 

Thorin had given up demanding answers from his captives when they brought him food and drink. After a few days of him making threats and demands, he had tried asking kindly where his companions were, though he could not bring himself to beg. Still, the elves would not give him answers. 

The dark and cold loneliness was beginning to eat at his soul. Lack of interaction and being left to himself for so long did nothing for the dwarf in his despair. His company was nowhere to be seen, and Bilbo... 

He tried not to think of the hobbit. He tried with every fiber of his being not to worry for Bilbo's life. Wonder if he had been taken prisoner as well, or if he had managed to survive the spiders at all. Thorin had not seen the hobbit when they had been taken by the elves. He wasn't sure if he hoped more that Bilbo had escaped, or if he would be safer having been kept with the group. Surely he would be with the other members of the company? 

The company Thorin knew not the fate of. He threw his head back against the wall. How was he to survive this? He would go mad before long. 

“Thorin?” Bilbo's voice came from just outside the cell door, and Thorin jumped at the sound of it. He slowly got to his feet, shuffling uncertainly toward the bars. 

“Bilbo?” he asked the empty corridor softly. 

Thorin's voice sounded broken, even to his own ears, and he nearly crumbled at the realization he must have finally lost his mind. He inhaled sharply in shock as the hobbit materialized from nowhere before his very eyes, standing just in front of him and refusing to meet his gaze.

“I promise, I won't stay long. Just want to make sure you're alright and tell you the rest of the company are safe,” Bilbo's voice was hollow. He spoke quickly, as though he were crawling out of his skin in eagerness to leave. He gave Thorin a wary glance before he turned quickly to retreat.

“Wait!” Thorin's sudden shout echoed slightly down the cold stone corridor.

Bilbo froze several paces from the cell, keeping his back to the dwarf.

“Stay?” Thorin requested softly, his voice a raspy plea that was quickly swallowed up by the shadows. 

Bilbo turned slowly towards the dwarf, his face unreadable.   
“I did not think you would invite my presence,” he said softly, glancing up to where Thorin's face was half hidden in the dark.

Thorin flinched with a grimace, then softly shook his head.   
“That could not be farther from the truth.”

“Really?” Bilbo's voice was low, but firm as he placed his hands on his hips.   
“Because I very well remember the last time I tried to speak with you, Thorin Oakenshield, and your reaction said otherwise.” 

“I said those things out of anger,” Thorin explained, his eyes downcast in shame.

“Anger that I had been so careless and gotten myself captured like a fool,” Bilbo finished, his temper flaring.

Thorin's head snapped up.   
“No,” his voice was a mere whisper.

Bilbo crossed his arms over his chest, but made no move to leave as the dwarf sighed and fought with his emotions.

“Please,” Thorin rasped, “please don't leave me here,” his voice was wavering and broken, and he did not care one bit that he was begging.   
“Do not leave me here alone in the dark.”

Bilbo frowned and shifted nervously, ill at ease to hear the proud dwarf's shameless begging. What had happened to Thorin that he was all but throwing himself at Bilbo's feet? 

“I am not angry with you. I never was,” Thorin admitted quietly with a shrug, “I have worried for my men, for you, for our quest....” he blinked back against the moisture in his eyes, willing himself to stay in one piece. “Now I fear I will lose my mind in this cell. I have not spoken to anyone in more days than I can count.”

Bilbo took a few steps closer. He could feel Thorin's anguish through his words, and it pulled at his heart. Thorin's pain was suddenly Bilbo's, and he was overcome with the urge to comfort and protect the dwarf.   
They could speak of Thorin's foul temper later. 

“It is no small thing, for a dwarf to admit when he is afraid,” Thorin said to the cold floor, “and I am afraid,” he declared, finally looking up to where Bilbo stood nearby.   
“I fear that I have led us all to our death, that we are now fated to rot in the dungeon of the elven king for the rest of our days.”

The tears gathered at the corners of Thorin's eyes, and he took a shaky breath in an attempt to settle himself. He blinked rapidly at the ceiling, hating the feel of being vulnerable and open.

“I will be lost to the dark and dank of the bowls of Thranduil's kingdom, forever forgotten and alone, even in my last breaths....”   
Thorin's voice broke and Bilbo rushed to him, setting his hands on the dwarf's larger ones around the bars.

“No Thorin,” Bilbo felt his heart was being pulled from his chest when Thorin looked at him, his clear blue eyes clouded with despair.   
“You will not die here. Not while this hobbit still draws breath.”

The dark of the dungeon was all consuming, and Bilbo could barely make out the dwarf's features. The faint yellow torch light reflected off watery blue eyes and flickered on the tear tracks down Thorin's face and in his beard. He gave the dwarf a small smile, encouraged when Thorin tried to return it. 

Thorin dropped his gaze to the floor.  
“Will you stay with me?” he asked in a whisper.   
“Please?”

Bilbo rubbed his thumb over Thorin's knuckles, letting himself be swept up in his urge to stay close to the dwarf.   
“Yes. Yes I'll stay.” 

Thorin pulled a hand away to wipe at his eyes. “I'm sorry, Bilbo. I never should have...”

“Shhh... there'll be time for that later. I think I hear someone. You will not see me, but I promise I won't leave you,” Bilbo whispered. He pulled away, sliding on his ring just as an elf appeared, coming down the winding staircase at the end of the hall. 

The elf approached the cell, giving Thorin a disgusted look.   
“I don't know why the king wastes our good food on the likes of you,” the elf sneered. 

Thorin did not answer, but glared up at his captive defiantly. 

“Give me the empty if you wish to be fed again,” the elf ordered impatiently. 

Thorin turned, using his foot to slide the tray beneath the bars. The elf leaned down to fetch it, giving Thorin a hateful grin. 

“Here,” the elf said, setting the full tray on the floor in the middle of the corridor, far out of Thorin's reach.   
“Enjoy!” The elf sauntered off, looking far to pleased with himself.

Bilbo reappeared before Thorin as the echoed of footsteps faded, his face screwed up in a rage Thorin had never seen before on the hobbit. He picked up the tray from the center of the hall and slid it under the bars.   
“I may just have to pay that one a visit,” the hobbit said with venom.

Thorin shook his head. “He matters not, please do not risk being imprisoned yourself.”

Bilbo gave Thorin a defeated look.   
“Yes alright,” he said with a huff, “I'll let it be. Now please, eat.”

Thorin lowered himself to the floor, keeping an eye on Bilbo as though he expected the hobbit to vanish into thin air. He assessed the hobbit, his eyes narrowing as he took in the thinning waist and gaunt look of Bilbo's face.

“Here,” Thorin slid the tray closer to the bars. “You must be near starved,” Thorin said as he recalled the eating habits of hobbits. 

“I-” Bilbo started to argue, but his growling stomach gave him away. He nodded in reluctant agreement, coming to sit before the bars of Thorin's prison and shared in his meal. It was bland, but it was filling, and Bilbo was grateful for it. He stood when they had finished, fidgeting a bit as he decided whether or not he should go. 

“Thank you,” Bilbo said softly. He shifted uneasily, unsure of what to do next. “Should I... would you like me to...?”

“Will you stay a little while longer?” Thorin asked, saving Bilbo from his stuttering.

Bilbo grinned and settled back onto the ground. “Yes. Yes I can stay for a while.”

Thorin shoved the tray to the back of his cell and leaned his side against the cell door. Bilbo mirrored him, letting their arms touch between the bars. Thorin leaned into the contact, and Bilbo followed suite, taking comfort in each others warmth. 

Thorin took a settling breath, willing himself to hold onto some sense of propriety, but he yearned for Bilbo's touch, yearned for the soft warmth of the hobbit next to him. He longed to reassure himself of Bilbo's safety, that he was well and whole. There had been far too many close calls, too many times he had to worry for his hobbit. His nerves were frayed for it, and he couldn't help himself when he turned to nuzzle into Bilbo's curls. His eyes teared up in relief and he took a deep inhale of the hobbit's sweet scent. He froze when Bilbo tilted his head up to give him an assessing look, glancing from Thorin's watering eyes to his chapped lips. 

The hobbit sighed, leaning his forehead against the dwarf's.   
“Fool dwarf,” Bilbo whispered softly.

Thorin's body visibly relaxed as he breathed Bilbo's air, the tension and fear of the last days dying out like a smothered flame. The fact that Bilbo had moved closer comforted him, the hobbit had been avoiding him for far too long, and the dwarf's emotions simmered too close to the surface. He met Bilbo's gaze, his heart pounding as he was flooded with an entirely different hunger. Before he had decided to, he found himself leaning in, and was even more surprised when Bilbo met him halfway. Their lips touched briefly, then Bilbo took the lead, lips and tongue seeking, asking, and Thorin quickly answered. He parted his lips, letting Bilbo take whatever he wanted, however he wanted it. It was soft and slow and Thorin felt fire ignite in him, burning from the inside out. Bilbo's hands fisted in the front of Thorin's threadbare tunic and he let out a soft groan, the kiss becoming heated and more intense. 

Kissing Bilbo was more amazing than anything Thorin had ever dreamed. He was overwhelmed with it, and the tears spilled over again as he drank the hobbit in. 

“Thorin?” Bilbo pulled away to look at the king more clearly. He could barely make out the fresh moisture streaking the rough skin of Thorin's face. He frowned and placed a hand gently against a whiskered cheek. The dwarf turned into the touch, letting out a ragged breath against Bilbo's palm.

“Thorin what's wrong?” Bilbo asked gently. It was alarming, seeing Thorin like this. Never had the proud king seemed so broken.

“I'm sorry,” Thorin said, pulling away and wiping at his face in shame.   
“I have been alone too long, that is all.”   
He moved just out of Bilbo's reach, trying to recover his pride.   
“You should go. I would hate for you to be captured.”

Bilbo sat back, a bit shell shocked at Thorin's sudden change in mood.   
“Yes. Yes you're probably right.”   
He jumped to his feet, the intimate energy of the last few minutes dissolving like a cloud of mist. His hands fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, the sudden dismissal unnerving him.   
“I am working on a plan to get you all out.” 

“Thank you Bilbo,” Thorin said sincerely as Bilbo began to walk away.   
“They feed me twice a day. Come, and I will save you some food. I can't let our burglar go hungry,” he said with a smile. 

Bilbo's responding grin was breathtaking as the hobbit turned and slipped on his ring.

* * * * *

_Thorin was not jealous. Honestly, he could care less who Bilbo chose to spend his time with._

_Unless it was an elf. Which apparently, was who Bilbo was going to insist on spending all his time with._

_Thorin huffed, leaning back in his chair as he listened to his company grouse about the food. They had only been in Rivendell for two days, and Thorin was already eager to put the place far behind them. He scowled in the hobbit's direction when he heard Bilbo laugh from where he was conversing with one of the elves seated beside him. Thorin stood, far too aggravated to remain in this room with these tree shagging sprites. He left without a word, leaving his dwarves to stare after him in confusion._

_Thorin shook his head as he leaned against the rail of an empty balcony. He knew not how long they would have to stay, and any amount of time was far too long in his opinion. Especially if Bilbo... well... the sooner they left, the better._

_“Your majesty?” a small voice pulled Thorin from his brooding. He looked up to see Ori approaching hesitantly, the young scribe taking a place not too far from the king._

_“Gandalf is asking for you,” Ori stated. He gave Thorin an assessing look before clearing his throat. “And so is Bilbo.”_

_Thorin glanced sidelong at the scribe, curious as to why the hobbit would care. He seemed to have eyes only for the elves._

_“He is quite fond of you,” Ori said, fidgeting as he spoke. “He is curious about the elves, but he speaks of you highly, and often.”_

_Thorin sighed. “I can't help but wonder why you would think this information would concern me.”_

_Ori raised an eyebrow at his king brazenly. “Why indeed.” With that, the young dwarf walked away, leaving Thorin grinning to himself at Ori's words_. 

_So, he had been found out. Well, at least Ori seemed to be in favor of his... interest in the hobbit. And had hinted that Bilbo perhaps shared his fondness. Maybe, this stop in Rivendell would not be all for naught._

* * * * *

_When at last Thorin found Bilbo, he had rather wished he hadn't. The Hobbit stood on a lower balcony, obviously having stumbled upon Gandalf and the elven lord Elrond arguing. He was encouraged to hear the wizard defend him, but the fact that the elf seemed to disapprove of their quest so strongly made Thorin uneasy. He had quite forgotten his purpose, having become so intent on listening in, and he was terrified what Bilbo must think when Elrond uttered his next words._

_“Have you forgotten a strain of madness runs deep in his family? His grandfather lost his mind, can you swear Thorin will not also fall to it?”_

_Bilbo's eyes met Thorin's, and the dwarf could see the question in them. The worry, and perhaps fear._

_Yes. They would need to leave Rivendell. And if Thorin had his way, they would leave right then._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many feels. Thorin is such an idiot, but that's why we love him, right?   
Thank you for all your kudos and comments! Keep them coming!  
More soon!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple days late, but here we are! Enjoy the next chapter!

Bilbo couldn't say he was disappointed to be rooming with the dwarf king, but he was certainly apprehensive. His time spent with Thorin in the elven king's dungeon had been mostly warm, but he could not be certain what things would be like now they were free. 

The citizens at Laketown had given them a warm greeting, once Thorin's identity was revealed and Bilbo vouched for the dwarf. They had thrown the company quite a party, and gave them rooms to sleep in. They would stay in pairs, Fili with Kili, Balin with Dwalin, Oin with Gloin, Dori with Ori, Nori with Bofur, and Bombur with Bifur. No one had questioned it when Thorin had claimed the hobbit as his roommate, whether out of respect or lack of surprise, Bilbo couldn't be sure. 

Now Bilbo found himself following his dwarves up the stairs of a large house they had been granted to stay in.  
His dwarves.  
He had begun to think of the company as his own quite some time ago, though it really solidified in Thranduil's kingdom. He had spent many an hour reassuring and keeping each of the dwarves company in turn, and they had all shown him their gratitude by treating him with near reverence, all except Thorin. The dwarf had kept his distance, after that night when Bilbo had found him. He was polite and kind, but obviously reluctant to let the hobbit get close again.

Once they had been freed, Thorin had gotten even more distant, avoiding meeting Bilbo's eye keeping himself as far removed from the hobbit as he could manage. It was quite surprising to him that Thorin had asked to share a room with him. 

Well, commanded really, as it was not a request in the slightest. 

Bilbo followed the dwarf to their room. It was down at the end of the hall, removed from the others, and Bilbo felt his nervousness growing as the company members entered their own rooms, leaving he and Thorin alone at the end of the hall. Thorin opened the door to the one they would be sharing. He held it open for Bilbo to pass through, and their proximity had the hobbit's heart pounding in his ears. He shook his head at the memory of what such familiar proximity had led to in the dungeons. He blew out a strained breath as the lock clicked, shutting out all the world. 

The room was vast, a curtained bed sat between two windows, a chaise lounge lay not far from it, positioned before a large crackling hearth. The room was luxurious and grand, and Bilbo felt quite guilty for their comfort, having seen the meager huts the rest of the population resided in. 

“I'll take the lounge, shall I?” Bilbo offered softly, afraid to break the silence as he headed for the fireplace.

“The bed is more than large enough for the both of us,” Thorin responded. “Surely you would be more comfortable there?”

Bilbo swallowed thickly, trying to find the courage to accept the offer. The dwarf had been vulnerable with him that night in the dungeons, open and honest in a way Bilbo could never have guessed Thorin was capable. But the cold indifference had planted doubt in his heart, and he wondered if maybe the dwarf had been so starved for interaction, he had settled for Bilbo to comfort him. 

“A-are you sure?” Bilbo asked uncertainly.

“Of course. I would not deny you a soft bed after all that you've done for m- us,” Thorin answered simply. He turned and locked the door then strode across the room to sit on the edge of the bed. He pulled off his boots, dropping them with an ominous thud next to the bedside table.  
“I will need your assistance with my armor,” Thorin said over his shoulder.

Bilbo stood frozen where the dwarf had left him. Having been given a purpose, he nervously came to Thorin's side and began working at the fastenings of the dwarf's protective layers. There were many buckles and straps, but Bilbo's fingers were nimble, and he had little trouble working the fastenings of Thorin's armor. He tried not to notice the significant warmth at the brush of his skin against Thorin's shoulders, or the way his firm muscles felt as he shifted when the armor came loose. The dwarf groaned as the encumbering garment was finally removed, causing Bilbo's stomach to tighten and his pulse to quicken beneath his skin.

“Thank you. I could not have hoped to remove that myself before morning,” Thorin quipped lightly as he pulled off his undershirt. He stood up, unfastening his belt and pushed his leathers down to his ankles, stepping on them with one foot in order to free the other. 

Bilbo's throat had gone dry and he watched with rapt attention until the dwarf stood before him in naught but thin trousers. Thorin was all solid muscle, thick and battle worn, and Bilbo could not bring himself to look away. His eyes roved over sun-kissed, scar strewn skin, and the thick black hair covering the dwarf's chiseled chest. His gaze ran lower, following the trail of dark hair over Thorin's solid stomach to where it disappeared into the waist of his trousers, then he snapped his head back up to meet the dwarf's eye. Bilbo blushed and Thorin gave him a smirk, then the king climbed under the covers, settling down into the soft pillows and sheets. 

Bilbo was suddenly aware that he was still fully clothed, and had just shamelessly ogled the dwarf king in his unmentionables. He hesitated for a moment, before deciding to follow suite. It was only fair. He shed his jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt, swallowing what little propriety he had left after traveling for so long with rowdy dwarves. He let his shirt fall to the floor, opting to keep the thin undershirt on, and pushed his trousers off. He strode to the other side of the bed with as much confidence as he could muster and crawled in, making himself as comfortable as he could with his back to the dwarf.

* * * * *

It was late, and the fire had died down to embers when Bilbo's eyes snapped open. There was a whisper of warm breath over the back of his neck, a heavy hand sat on his hip, and Bilbo couldn't help his soft hum of contentment. He laid there for a few moments, letting himself enjoy the heat of Thorin's body laying so close. He figured the dwarf would roll away the moment he became aware of their position, and so he reveled in the moment. He stiffened when the big hand at his side squeezed his hip lightly, and he held his breath, listening to determine whether the dwarf was awake. He swallowed thickly, his mouth suddenly dry as he weighed is options. He could simply go back to sleep, accepting this moment as a fluke in the night, or he could face the dwarf and satisfy his curiosity. 

Did Thorin reach for him knowingly, or was the dwarf simply cuddling in his sleep? 

Bilbo found his resolve and slowly, he turned to face the dwarf king. His heart beat a rapid staccato against his ribs, his breaths leaving him unevenly as he rolled onto his other side. His heart fluttered when he was met with blue eyes, the look in them open and yearning. Bilbo froze, scarcely daring to breathe as Thorin's stare burned into him, carving him out and filling him with fiery intensity. 

Time sat on the edge of a knife, waiting to teeter one way or the other. The room itself seemed to be holding its breath as the two regarded each other, and Bilbo felt he was stripped bare as blue eyes searched his own. 

Thorin reached a tentative hand up and gently caressed Bilbo's cheek with the back of his fingers, and everything seemed to hang on this one moment. It crashed over Bilbo, overwhelming him with the inferno of long denied need and it took every ounce of his strength not to lunge at the dwarf. With barely held control, he hesitantly inched forward, gaging Thorin's reaction. 

The dwarf leaned in, his movements measured and slow. He let his hand slide down to cup Bilbo's jaw, inching ever closer until their lips brushed. Thorin met Bilbo's eye in question, and the hobbit answered boldly. He pressed their mouths together in earnest, pulling his hand up to tangle in the black strands of Thorin's hair. Thorin's lips parted, his tongue seeking Bilbo's, and the hobbit quickly acquiesced. 

Thorin growled into Bilbo's mouth, grabbing his hip again and pulled the smaller body closer. Bilbo did not protest and he arched into the dwarf. He had waited for this moment for longer than he cared to admit, and his body longed for more, more of the hot flesh pressed against him. More of the taste of Thorin's kiss. More than reassurance sought in a cold and lonely dungeon. He groaned as Thorin's grip tightened, pulling Bilbo's hips closer and rolling his own against them. Bilbo's eyes rolled back at the feel of Thorin's clothed erection grinding so deliciously against his own, sending sparks up his spine. 

“Th-Thorin-” Bilbo begged.

Thorin's movements stilled and he looked at the debauched hobbit intently.  
“Do you wish to stop?” Thorin's voice was gravely with arousal, and Bilbo could not seem to control his mouth well enough to respond with a coherent sentence.

“N-n-no.... Don't stop,” Bilbo finally managed to sigh out.

Thorin's eyes roved over the hobbit greedily, and he quickly rolled to cover the smaller form with is own. He pressed their bodies together again, grinding down against Bilbo, making him mumble and gasp, arching and thrashing as his legs locked around the dwarf's waist. 

Thorin rolled his hips, Bilbo bucking up to meet him as they moved in tandem, building in speed and intensity. The room filled with the soft sounds of the bed creaking and gasping breaths.

As Bilbo's gasps turned into wanton moans, he brought his hands back up to bury them in Thorin's hair and pulled him down for a hurried and sloppy kiss. Thorin moaned into Bilbo's mouth, then he broke their kiss, his eyes clenching shut as his peak neared. 

Bilbo's body tensed and buckled, and he quickly covered his mouth to stifle his cries of pleasure.

“No,” Thorin whispered, gently pulling Bilbo's hand from his mouth. “Let me hear you.”

Bilbo squeaked. “I don't want anyone else to hear!”

“Let them. Let them all hear, and they will know who you belong to,” Thorin's voice was tender, and he watched in awe as Bilbo's eyes rolled back and his jaw dropped as his peak hit him, Thorin's name ripping from his throat and sending the dwarf over the edge after him. 

Thorin pressed his lips to Bilbo's softly. He rolled over and dropped to the mattress at the hobbit's side, letting his skin cool and listening to Bilbo's soft panting. 

Bilbo turned his head, gazing at the dwarf laid out beside him. Thorin was beautiful in his current state, open and warm and euphoric. Bilbo rolled to face the dwarf, letting his breathing slow back to normal. Thorin mirrored him, turning to throw his arm around his hobbit, pulling him close. Bilbo tucked his head under Thorin's chin, smiling to himself as he curled into the comfort of warm skin.

* * * * *

Bilbo awoke the next morning to find Thorin already gone. He climbed from the bed, cursing the state of his underthings, and pulled on his shirt and trousers, set on finding a bath of some sort to put himself to rights. 

It was late morning when finally a freshly bathed Bilbo joined the company downstairs, and they all greeted him warmly and with humor. They knew Bilbo hadn't been sleeping, and were thrilled he had managed to catch much needed rest. It wasn't obvious whether or not they had heard the events of the evening, but Bilbo was too hungry to care much.

Bilbo's eyes searched the room, and he found the dwarf he sought with no trouble. Thorin was sitting at the end of the table, watching the hobbit with rapt attention and a self satisfied smirk. Bilbo blushed and quickly turned away, where Balin caught his eye. The old dwarf gave him a wink, but nobody else seemed to notice. 

* * * * *

_Bilbo was not thrilled to be leaving Rivendell. The beautiful home of the elves felt magical, and their histories were so well documented he could spend years in the library, and still have plenty to read. He sighed longingly as he glanced back, but he turned to join the company at Thorin's bark for haste._

_Thorin had been in a foul temper their entire stay with Lord Elrond. Bilbo knew the majority of their group were not overly fond of elves, but considering the hospitality they were granted, one would think a dwarf of royal blood would show a little gratitude. It was not the case, and Bilbo was sure some of Thorin's sour looks were cast his way from time to time as he enjoyed the company of their hosts. There was nothing for it now, and hopefully the dwarf would shake his aggravation as they continued on._

_Bilbo decided he would rather be leaving Rivendell as it were. He had signed a contract, and as such he would not be leaving his dwarves any time soon. Not to mention, the growing ties to the dwarf king amounted to more than a pledge for services. The interactions between them and the feelings Thorin stirred in Bilbo's chest were most certainly the budding of something quite beautiful. If only the dwarf would stop being an absolute ass all the time. His sudden changes is temperament were starting to give Bilbo a headache._

_Steadily, the days grew ever colder as the company made their way up into the mountains. The path narrowed dangerously, and the dwarves could no longer walk in small groups or pairs. They now spread out in single file, silently trudging their way along the rocky cliff side._

_Bilbo was more than ready to be done with this leg of their journey, the frozen and rocky mountainside was no place for a hobbit. His thick leathery soles did not fail him, unyielding to the sharp rocks they sometimes crossed, but his feet were near constantly sore and numb with cold._

_Bilbo stuffed his hands into his pockets as a freezing drizzle began. He raised his shoulders up, scrunching his head down in an attempt to shield his exposed neck from the bite of the wind. It was all for naught, as he was soaked to the bone within minutes when the dark sky opened to mercilessly pour its contents onto the company. The frigid wind picked up as rain ran down Bilbo's face in numbingly cold rivulets, obscuring his vision and plastering his hair to his forehead. Bilbo pushed the hair from his eyes as Balin's voice echoed over the din of thunder. He was shocked and terrified to see the battle happening before them. Boulders the size of houses flung through the air by the mountain itself. How could such things exist?_

_The next moments were a blur of terror and screaming as the company clung to the slippery stone of the mountain giants, scared for their lives. At the end of it all, Bilbo found himself dangling from the mountainside. His frozen numb fingers barely managed to hold on to the slick wet stone, and he was quite convinced this would be how he met his end. He was trying his best to make peace with the fact, when suddenly a strong hand grasped him. There was a short moment where the scent of Thorin surrounded him, then he was hoisted up to safety in a blink._

_Their escape had been narrow, and Bilbo was astounded they had all lived. Though at this point, Bilbo supposed they were all experts on close calls and survival. He tried to focus on such trivial thoughts as they sought shelter, for if he allowed his mind to wander where it wanted most, he would be dwelling on the dismissive words of the dwarf king after his rescue. Bilbo had thought he had found his place among these dwarves, that at the very least, Thorin counted him as a friend. But clearly, he had not earned that title as he had thought. Perhaps he should turn around. There was no sense in staying where he wasn't wanted._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are warming up! Please let me know what you think of this one! I adore your feedback, and it helps me direct my story. Thanks for reading! More soon!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too long. It has been far too long since I updated, but finally here it is! I can't lie and say I will be putting up the next chapters sooner, as we are quickly approaching the holidays, but I can promise I will not leave this unfinished! My OCD would never allow me to drop a fic like that.  
Please enjoy!

The hobbit looked a fair sight better, having had more than a couple hours of sleep. Not that Thorin thought Bilbo ever looked bad, but the paleness of his skin and the haunted look in his eyes had seemed to have faded a fair amount overnight. Thorin smiled as he finished his breakfast. He intended to have a little time with Bilbo before seeing to the details of their departure, but then Balin was suddenly at his side, urging him off to meet with the Master of Laketown.

The Master was a horrid man, heartless and clearly driven by greed. His people struggled on the frozen lake, the meager food and scarce warmth a constant threat to their lives. Yet the Master lived in relative luxury, his meals regular and plentiful, and his home lit with fires and loaded with extra blankets and linens. It made Thorin sick to think he would have to treat with this troll of a man. 

Negotiations had been tedious, and Thorin was ready to give the Master his blade rather than a bit of dwarven gold. The world would be better off without the man. But Balin had kept Thorin level headed enough to reach an agreement, a reluctant agreement, but agreement none-the-less. 

Thorin stewed over the forced treaty, storming through the house when they returned, intent on having a bite to eat and going straight to bed. Nobody spoke to him through dinner, as the look on his face made it clear he was not in a social mood. He cleared his plate as quickly as he could manage and swept out of the room and up the stairs.

Thorin had not noticed the wary looks he was receiving from a certain hobbit as he headed for the bedroom, having been so wrapped up in his fury. He lay beneath the thick blankets of the bed, staring at the ceiling as he contemplated more and more creative ways to give the master of Laketown what he deserved. His fantasies were ended by the pointed clearing of a throat near the door. 

Thorin looked up to find Bilbo, who had gone a bit red in the face and now stood staring intently at his feet. He looked anxious, as though he were at a loss of what to do or say.

“Bilbo?” Thorin's voice startled the hobbit, and his wide eyes met Thorin's nervously. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. Yes, I just... wasn't sure what to expect... what with...” Bilbo flapped his hand about lightly, struggling to find the words to explain his apprehension.

“You were worried I would not wish to see you. That I would have grown distant, despite what passed between us last night,” it was a statement, as Thorin was well aware of his past mistakes and he knew Bilbo would be expecting no different.

Bilbo nodded, and his certainty of Thorin's cold indifference drove a shard of guilt a bit deeper in Thorin's heart.

“When you returned from your meeting without a word, I-”

“I have no intention of pushing you away.”

Bilbo looked up, surprised at Thorin's sudden openness.

“To keep my distance from you is...” Thorin shook his head, unable to fully express the feeling. “Unbearable.”

Bilbo dropped his gaze and nodded, grinning at his feet. “Am I welcome in your bed again this night?”

Thorin's lips quirked up in a grin. “Always.”

Bilbo moved quickly, locking the door and coming to the bedside. He slid out of his clothes, stripping down to his underthings and climbed into the bed. He moved in closer to the dwarf and melted into Thorin's side. 

Thorin wrapped his arm around the hobbit. He was glad to have Bilbo close, especially in the dark of night when the nightmares would wake him in a sweat.

* * * * *

Thorin was relieved the next morning, as he could not remember waking in the night at all. He smiled to himself, stretching and relishing the stream of sunlight spilling in through the window. It was a perfect day to plan their departure. 

“'Morning,” Bilbo mumbled from the pillow at Thorin's side. 

“Good morning,” Thorin took a moment to nuzzle at Bilbo's hair, relishing the warm smell of sleep.

“Mmph...” Bilbo was clearly drifting off, and so Thorin left him be. He pressed a kiss to tousled curls and quickly rose to get himself dressed. 

Dwalin and Balin sat at the table, heads bowed in discussion when Thorin came into the kitchen. Bombur, Dori, and Ori were tucking into their breakfast across from them, talking softly and reminiscing of home and family. The rest of the company must still have been abed, and Thorin couldn't say he blamed them overmuch. Good rest was hard to come by, on the road, and they should take the advantage while they could have it. 

“Good morning, My King,” Balin called out.

Thorin walked through the room, grabbing an apple from the basket on the table on his way, and he bit into it as he took the chair next to the white haired dwarf.

“Morning Balin,” he said around his mouthful.

Balin frowned in disapproval. 

“Ya seem mighty chipper this mornin,” Dwalin accused. “Come ta think of it, ye were quite chipper yesterday too.”

“Aye. What of it?” Thorin challenged.

Dwalin leaned in, raising a scarred eyebrow at his closest friend. “It's that hobbit, ain't it?” he chuckled as Thorin averted his gaze. 

Balin threw an elbow into his incorrigible brother's ribs.

“Oof!” Dwalin rubbed at the abused spot gingerly. “Jus sayin what we were both thinkin,” he complained, “you an I both know he only gets that look when he's got off recently.”

Balin dodged the well aimed smack from the king. It hit a laughing Dwalin hard in the face, but it didn't seem to phase the big dwarf. 

“Watch it there,” Balin scolded.  
Thorin grinned at his friend. “I knew you would move.”  
Balin shook his head. “You're lucky the lads aren't down here to witness this. No wonder they're such troublemakers with you two as examples.” 

Thorin's attention was otherwise snared when the hobbit in question walked into the kitchen. He was met with a glimmering sidelong glance, and he gave Bilbo a lopsided smile in return.

“Aye,” Dwalin's gruff voice caught Thorin's ear, “that's exactly what I thought.”

Thorin threw the old guard a scowl, rising to join Bilbo outside for a morning smoke.

The air on the balcony was cool, tinged with the faint smell of fish and waste. Thorin wrinkled his nose lightly and joined Bilbo standing by the rail. He pulled out the pipe he had snagged from Balin and stuffed the bowl. It took a moment to light it, fighting against the cold breeze, but finally a light cloud of smoke puffed from his mouth, and he sighed as he let it out. It was comfortable, standing here with Bilbo, arms brushing lightly and sharing the quiet of dawn. So it came as a surprise to Thorin when he realized the hobbit seemed tense at his side.

“Thorin,” Bilbo's voice was soft and hesitant, and Thorin frowned as he met the hobbit's stare. “What- what exactly is.... this?” he gestured between the two of them. “What are... I mean-” he huffed a bit, and Thorin's frown deepened. “What exactly is this to you, and how long do you intend to continue it?” 

Thorin was a bit confused. Surely Bilbo was aware of his feelings? He had thought it should be perfectly clear they were in the makings of a proper courtship. Of course, it couldn't be official, not until the mountain was reclaimed and Thorin could offer a proper courting gift, but there should be plenty of time for that later.  
“I-I suppose the choice is yours. Would you like to continue?” Thorin replied, unsure if he wanted to know the answer. 

“That would depend on what exactly it is I am continuing.”  
Bilbo seemed to be insinuating something, but Thorin could not for the life of him fathom what it was. 

“A- a courtship?” now Thorin was stammering a bit, and wasn't that just regal and kingly of him? Of course when Bilbo was smiling at him that way, did it really matter if he was a bumbling fool? 

“A courtship,” Bilbo repeated, as though he were testing how the words felt crossing his lips. “And, how does that work, between dwarves?”

“It's very simple. We spend time together, to see if we are compatible. A courtship gift is given, braids are put in place, and eventually, braids of intent, should it go so far.” Thorin finished with a bit of a blush. He couldn't remember the last time he had blushed, but here he stood, cheeks and ears pink as Bilbo smiled at him shyly. 

“Alright. Then I fully intend to continue.” Bilbo raised up onto his toes, placing a soft kiss to Thorin's beard before he ducked back inside. 

Thorin smiled. This was certainly a good beginning to a good day.

* * * * *

Long day. It had been a very long day. Thorin had spent the majority of his time in conference with Balin, then helping the rest of the dwarves get things packed and arranged for their departure. Bilbo couldn't be angry for it, Thorin was king after all, and as such he was responsible for all of these things. But he really would have liked to spend a little time with the dwarf, before they were off to face a dragon.

Another party was thrown, one to celebrate their departure and hopeful success, and Bilbo couldn't seem to keep tabs on Thorin at all. There were too many tall folk about, too many stumbling men full of ale stepping all over his feet and tripping on him. Dwalin had tried to help, sticking close to Bilbo's side in order to hinder the men coming close enough to do any harm to the hobbit's toes, but the dwarf had only managed to step on Bilbo himself. 

Dori and Balin invited Bilbo to sit next to them and have another pint, but honestly, he was ready to be done with the whole ordeal. He declined their offer politely, and slipped out the nearest door as soon as he could get across the room.

It was cold along the path back to the house. It seemed to always be cold and fishy here. Bilbo wondered at the men of Laketowns ability to live in such conditions. This was no place for a hobbit, though, he hadn't been many places on this journey that could be called suitable anyway.

Bilbo sighed as he walked through the door of the empty house, letting the warm air envelope him in its embrace. He shook the flakes of snow from his hair and brushed the wetness from his feet on the rug. The quiet was a wonderful relief after all the noise and commotion. He walked through the sitting room and drug himself up the stairs sluggishly, grateful for the silence and stillness. 

Bilbo finally reached his room and he was quick to shut the door behind him. He shrugged off his coat and draped it over a chair before moving to the bedside. 

“Oh!” Bilbo exclaimed, jumping just a bit. “I didn't realize you had come back already.”

Thorin grinned, then stretched his arms up with a groan.  
“Big day tomorrow. Wanted to take a little time away from the noise and get my head right,” Thorin responded as Bilbo climbed up into the bed next to him. Bilbo laid a hand on the dwarf's solid chest, then caught sight of a hip bone at the corner of his eye. Thorin slowly looked up at Bilbo, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smirk as the hobbit looked him over. 

“Thorin, are you completely....” Bilbo slid his hand gently down the dwarf's stomach, moving over to the side to tickle over his hip and finally down the soft skin of a solid bare thigh. “Oh...” Bilbo groaned, relishing the feel of the hot flesh under his hand. “So you are.”

“Do not think of it as an expectation. I simply sleep better unclothed. After the last few days, I feel at ease enough to sleep naked,” Thorin explained. “I do not expect anything, and you may simply lay next to me if you would like.”

“N-no. No expectations. But, perhaps... an invitation?” Bilbo asked, looking up into Thorin's quickly darkening eyes.

Thorin swallowed thickly, surprised at the effect of Bilbo's words. He was quite enjoying the way he could make the proper gentle-hobbit blush and stammer so easily.  
“It is an open invitation. One you may accept at any time, or not at all.”

Bilbo grinned, nodding lightly.  
“Well, I think I may have to accept such a tempting offer,” he licked his lips and leaned down to meet Thorin with an enthusiastic kiss. 

Thorin's fingers threaded through Bilbo's hair, gripping a bit when the hobbit's hand resumed exploring the taut muscle of Thorin's thigh. The dwarf gasped and pulled back as soft fingers grazed his length teasingly, and he gazed into Bilbo's eyes with bated breath as fingertips brushed softly along his inner thigh.

“Bilbo,” he breathed, the anticipation nearly enough to kill him as Bilbo's hands came ever closer to where he desperately needed them. His hips moved involuntarily, twitching up just a little as deft fingers lightly wrapped around him. Thorin held his breath, struggling not to thrust up into that teasing grip. He moaned obscenely when the hand closed around him and finally began to stroke. 

“Bilbo,” Thorin's voice was strained and broken as he arched into Bilbo's hand. His jaw clenched and, Mahal, he should certainly last longer than this. He had had more than enough experience in his youth, but somehow Bilbo set him off easy. He groaned and his hips pulsed up a few times, working himself against Bilbo's fist as he came over the hobbit's hand.

Bilbo stood and went to rinse himself off in the wash basin on the nightstand. When he returned, Thorin had already fallen asleep, snoring softly into the arm draped over his face. Bilbo curled in under the blanket with a smile, pressing himself against Thorin's warm bare skin. Maybe he could manage a little sleep this night.

* * * * * 

_Thorin cursed under his breath. How had he managed to lead them all right into a trap?_

_“Up! Get up!”_

_There was a scrambling of confused dwarves and a sound like door hinges scraping as the cave floor gave right out from under them._

_They fell._

_Thorin's face fell when he noticed the swarm. The swarm of goblins crawling, climbing, scrambling toward them. Teeth gnashing, growling and fighting each other in their hurry to grab Thorin and his dwarves. _

_Thorin jumped to his feet. He tried to fight the goblins off as best he could, but their numbers were to great. He and his dwarves were easily overwhelmed by the vast hoard. The outlook was bleak for the company. They were completely surrounded, their weapons taken, and still thousands upon thousands of goblins resided in this mountain. Lurking along the path, scrambling up the walls. They reminded Thorin of ants or a hive of bees. _

_It was obvious they never could have escaped their inevitable demise without the help of Gandalf. Once again the infuriating wizard appeared at the very last moment, leading the charge and saving the dwarves from certain death. _

_* * * * *_

_Thorin couldn't think of a fitting way to describe the goblin king. He tried in vain to put it into words, but words had never been his strong suite._  
_Disgusting? Revolting? Yes, yes those would do. But it was not nearly enough to encompass the creature that had threatened his company. His nephews. _

_Perhaps, Thorin was only desperate for a distraction from reality. The reality that now, the company was short a certain hobbit. A certain hobbit who was now Mahal knows where. Bilbo had disappeared. He had disappeared right under Thorin's nose, and the king had no one to blame but himself. After they fell into the goblin tunnels, Thorin had not seen hide nor hair of their burglar, and he was having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that he may not have made it out alive._

_“Bilbo is....” _  
Dead?  
_No._  
_On his way home, back to his comfy chair and warm hearth. To his books and garden and nosy neighbors. Not dead. He couldn't be dead. Thorin would not accept it. He turned away from his company in an attempt to hide his face. Anger. Yes, he would remain angry. It was the best way to mask fear, but he had a feeling not all of them would be convinced._  
_“Long gone.”_

_“No, he is not,” Bilbo's voice brought such elation to the dwarf, and he had no right to respond so poorly to the hobbit's earnest words thereafter. Questioning him, as though he were some kind of criminal or traitor. Then Bilbo's words struck Thorin deep within._

_“You don't have one. A home.”_

_No. He was a king in exile, ruling a homeless people. King of a mountain infested by a dragon. Leader of a company on a fools mission to take that mountain back from a fire drake. And here stood this unlikely creature, this soft, spoiled hobbit, ready to do everything in his power to help them get it back. Bilbo was... very surprising. Admirable really._

_Thorin's thoughts were interupted by an all too familiar sound echoing over the hillside. A howl of a certain kind that set the heart pounding and blood running cold with dread. _

_Wargs._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? Smooth sailing from here, right?


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning!: This chapter depicts some pretty horrendous threats of bodily harm and death. Not to mention, orcs doing some violent things to Bilbo. If you're sensitive to that kind of stuff, you can skip this chapter, and it won't really mess with the general plot to miss it. At least I don't think so. I will sum up the chapter in the notes at the bottom, and you can just scroll down to there and read that instead if you like. Happy reading!

Bilbo rolled over again, trying in vain to get comfortable. It was true, he felt safer sleeping at Thorin's side, but some nights he found it difficult to sleep just the same. Their first night in this room had been a welcome reprieve, the haze after orgasm and exhaustion of their escape from elves had pulled Bilbo into his first full night of sleep that he'd had in weeks. But now, he found himself right back where he started. At least he could cuddle in to Thorin's warmth and put himself more at ease, even if sleep still evaded him. He had decided to do just that when Thorin began to toss and turn.

The dwarf thrashed out, a cold sweat breaking over his brow and his face pinched up as he groaned in discomfort. Bilbo pushed himself up onto his elbow. He leaned over the dwarf and laid a gentle hand on Thorin's face.

“Thorin,” Bilbo whispered softly, gentling his hand along the dwarf's jaw. “Thorin, it's alright. I'm here.”

Thorin's eyes sprang open, burning gaze unseeing at first.

“Thorin, Thorin look at me. Look at me,” Bilbo took the dwarf's face in his hands firmly, eyes boring into Thorin's, willing him to see.

Thorin's vision slowly cleared, his eyes honing in until he finally met the hobbit's gaze.  
“Bilbo?” 

“There you are,” Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief, letting himself lay back gratefully at Thorin's side.

Thorin scrubbed a hand over his face, letting out a heavy sigh.  
“Bad dream.”

“What of?” Bilbo asked curiously.

Thorin left his hand sitting over his eyes and licked his lips.  
“Darkness. And dragon fire.”

Bilbo leaned in and kissed his temple lightly.  
“You're safe here.”

Thorin huffed.  
“And tomorrow?”

“Well,” Bilbo shrugged, “we'll deal with that when it comes, I suppose.”

Thorin nodded, finally letting his hand drop from to his side. He looked over at Bilbo, taking in the exhausted look of his face, the dark circles around his eyes.  
“I hope I didn't wake you.”

“No.” Bilbo shook his head. “I was already awake. I still don't sleep much.”

Thorin frowned. “Why not?”

Bilbo sighed, glancing up at the ceiling.  
“I... Nerves, I guess.”

“Does the dragon haunt you as well?”

Bilbo chuckled.  
“You would think, wouldn't you?”

“Then what is it?”

“The orcs..... they...”  
Bilbo shook his head.  
“It's Azog.”  
He took a shaky defeated breath.  
“I see his sneering face every time I close my eyes.”

Anger coursed through Thorin at the mention of that orcs name.  
“That foul accursed demon of orc filth will be dealt with. His days are numbered.”

Bilbo cringed.  
“That- that is what I'm afraid of.”  
Bilbo licked his lips again, looking everywhere but at Thorin.  
“I don't want you to face him.”  
Bilbo shook his head and met Thorin's eyes earnestly.  
“He will kill us both. And he knows. He knows that.....”  
Bilbo trailed off, his face reddening and he quickly turned his head away.  
“He has sworn to end us both, and it will not be pretty.”

Thorin reached up and settled a hand at Bilbo's cheek.  
“You do not think I can protect you?”

Bilbo laughed humorlessly, pulling away from Thorin's touch and sitting up swiftly. “Were you there the last time? He nearly destroyed us both! Dumb luck was all that had saved us, and I doubt fortune will continue to favor the stupid.”  
Bilbo crossed his arms over his chest, as though daring Thorin to argue with him.

Thorin scowled, enraged at the words.  
“Stupid, am I?”  
He sat up next to Bilbo and the two sat glaring angrily at each other.  
“I must end him! Do you have any idea what he has cost me? What more he will take if he lives?”

Bilbo dropped his arms and sighed, resigned. He was too exhausted for all the tension and arguing.  
“Your grandfather and father,” Bilbo began, voice now tender and soft, “your brother.”  
He looked up at his dwarf.  
“I know what he has taken from you, Thorin.”  
Bilbo dared to reach up and brush a stray hair from the dwarf's brow.  
“He wishes to take Fili. And Kili.”  
He got up onto his knees, taking Thorin's face between his hands.  
“And I fear that if he shows up again, if you face him again...”  
Bilbo pushed his fingers into the hair at Thorin's temple, brushing through the soft strands reverently, before meeting the dwarf's gaze again.  
“He will take you from me.”

Thorin wrapped his arms around Bilbo's waist, pulling him into his lap and took him in a heated kiss. Bilbo's legs wrapped around the dwarf. He clung to Thorin, kissing him with wild abandon, mapping his lips and mouth with tooth and tongue. He was a bit surprised at Thorin's urgency. The king kissed him as though he was afraid if he stopped, Bilbo would be swept away. 

Finally, Thorin slowed and settled his forehead against Bilbo's softly.  
“I'm sorry Bilbo,” he whispered into the heavy air between them.  
“I'm sorry you are afraid, and I'm sorry I got so angry with you. But I will have to face Azog again. On this, I will not yield.”

Bilbo's gaze lowered and he sighed in defeat.  
“I don't want to lose you,” Bilbo finally managed to say. “Or the boys. And I know he does not intend to stop there.”

Thorin pulled the hobbit into a hug, burrowing his nose at Bilbo's neck.  
“He will not have a chance.”

Bilbo pushed Thorin away lightly, meeting the stubborn dwarf's eyes.  
“I know what he'll do to you. I can't let it happen.”

Thorin frowned and tilted his head, trying to read Bilbo's face. Making up his mind, he took a measured breath and met Bilbo's eye warily.  
“Bilbo, I am going to ask you a question. You may refuse to answer, and I will never bring it up again, but I have to ask. What did Azog say to you?”

Bilbo sucked in air between clenched teeth, holding it a moment before he blew it out through pursed lips.  
“He was-”  
Bilbo glanced away and cleared his throat.  
“He was going to kill me in front of you. I know he wants that still. He seemed..... very excited by the idea.”  
Bilbo swallowed the lump in his throat before he could continue.  
“He said... he said he would torture you after. Draw out your death so that it would be slow and painful. He was..... very explicit on the details.”

Thorin frowned at the sheets next to him, considering his next words carefully. It was clear Bilbo was very upset, and he didn't wish to cause him further pain. After a moment, he cleared his throat and turned back to face Bilbo.

“Those were only threats. Sick fantasies of an evil mind.” He put a hand on Bilbo's knee. “He will not touch you again.”

Bilbo sighed. “I wish I could believe you. Every moment in the dark brings the memories to the forefront of my mind. If I believed he would never threaten anyone again, perhaps I could finally get some sleep.”

“Bilbo,” Thorin took the hobbit's hand in his own large palm, smoothing his thumb over Bilbo's rough knuckles. “if you ever need to talk about it.....”

Bilbo nodded.  
“Yes. Yes, thank you.”  
He climbed back up to the head of the bed and flung himself down on the pillows. The bed creaked a little as the dwarf moved to settle in at his side. Bilbo could feel the warm comfort of Thorin's body, even though they weren't touching. He turned onto his side and tucked himself into the dwarf's arms, resting his hand on a firm chest. A warm hand wrapped around his, and he closed his eyes for a moment, finding strength and comfort in the rhythm of Thorin's heartbeat. 

“It was cold.”

* * * * *

_The air was biting cold, and Bilbo's head hurt dearly. It was loud, shrieking voices and growled orders echoed through rock and hillside, pounding in Bilbo's ears._

_Where was he?_

_There were hands around his wrists, squeezing too tight, pulling him, dragging him backwards, stretching his shoulders with the weight of his own body. His feet drug over dirt and sharp rock, scraping and digging at his heels. He scrunched up his face, then tried to blink his eyes open. It took a few tries, but he finally managed to will his lids to remain up. The sky before him was obscured by smoke billowing from somewhere over his shoulder, in the direction two orcs were dragging him._

_Bilbo turned his head, glancing at the grotesque faces of the orcs that held his wrists. They spun him around, keeping their hold on him and pulling his arms up so he dangled slightly between them._

_The orcs said something in their foul language, but Bilbo couldn't understand. Then, three disfigured and hungry looking faces swam into view. They stood before Bilbo, far too close for his liking, and seemed to be arguing amongst themselves. There was more arguing, the orcs holding him seemed to be barking orders at the other three._

_The first blow was a surprise, a hard punch to Bilbo's stomach, and he tried to curl over, intent on protecting himself from another. The next fist connected with his face, sending him into a brief moment of blackness as it hit. The pain was blinding, the sickening taste of blood hit the back of his throat as his nose began to drip with it. He blinked dazedly and tried to raise his head, if only to see what was coming next._

_One of the three came forward and kicked Bilbo's feet out from under him. They let him drop to the ground, and he landed hard on his back. The wind gusted from his lungs painfully, and he rolled to his side and folded in on himself, black spots blurring his vision._

_Bilbo struggled to pull in a breath and tried to roll up to sitting. A hand grabbed his collar and yanked him to his feet. Another order was barked, and an orc took Bilbo's hands and pulled them behind his back. A large clammy hand wrapped around both his wrists, securing them at the base of Bilbo's spine, and another hand clutched his throat. The hands pulled him back into a leathery damp chest. He looked up at the orc before him, struggling against the merciless hands that held him steady._

_The orc standing in front of him was large and covered with protruding metal shards, like permanent armor. He sneered as he regarded the hobbit, a terrifying expression on his gruesome face._  
_“Perhaps we should break its legs. Keep it from running.”_

_Bilbo stared at the orc wide eyed, filled with terror at the threat._

_“Bolg!” Azog's voice called from through the crowd that had begun to gather around them._

_Bilbo could not prevent the whimper that escaped him at the sight of the vicious orc._

_“This one we keep whole,” Azog purred in his deep and terrifying voice, “this one means something to Oakenshield.”_

_“The boys wanted to eat him. Would that not be revenge enough?”_

_Azog glanced at Bolg, giving him a horrifying grin, then looked back at Bilbo._  
_“Oh no. The dwarf will come for this one. He will do whatever necessary to recover this rat.”_

_Somewhere in his muddled mind, Bilbo realized this conversation was being had in Westron for his own benefit. They meant to terrorize him, to torment him until Thorin arrived._

_“We will wait for Oakenshield, and when he comes, we will break this one. Crush his bones one by one. Spill his blood over the rock and stone. The dwarf scum will no doubt try to save him, then we will capture Oakenshield and he will follow this one into death.”_

_“No!” Bilbo wasn't sure when he had found his voice, or if he had even decided to speak, but at the looks the orcs were giving him, he figured it would be best to stick to his conviction. His gaze hardened and he stood as steadily as he could in the grasp of his handler.  
“No, I mean nothing to Oakenshield. He will be long gone by now, and I would bet he has no intention of returning.”_

_Azog chuckled, a sound that had Bilbo's stomach dropping to somewhere near his feet._  
_“That you would sacrifice your life for his tells me otherwise. Do you know what I will do to him, once you've been disposed of?”_

_Bilbo shook his head, more to deny the situation than to answer the question._

_Azog took a step closer, his eyes narrowing as he spoke. “I will chain him, bind him, so he cannot fight me off. I will beat him, break his limbs one by one. He will be whipped until he screams for mercy, then I will flay him alive. The last thing he will see is my face, bathed in his blood and my army eating his flesh until his heart finally stops beating in his miserable chest.”_

_Bilbo swallowed against the bile that had risen in his throat. He shook his head again, blinking rapidly to get the images in his minds eye to dissipate_.  
_“No. No, you can't-”_

_“Can't?” Azog challenged, leaning in until Bilbo could smell his rancid breath._  
_“I do not think you are in any position to tell me what I can't do.”_  
_He turned back to his army and barked in black speech, and Bilbo found himself being dragged off closer to the fire. His wrists were bound around a post at his back. An orc took position next to him, probably to stand guard, as Azog and Bolg mounted their wargs and led a host of riders off into the night._

_Bilbo stood on shaking legs, his breathing ragged and shuddering as the orcs around him settled. They sat around the fire, eating what smelled like burnt rancid meat, yelling and bickering amongst themselves._

_Bilbo didn't even want to think about where the meat had come from. He leaned his head back heavily against the post behind him. How was he going to get out of this? He could not let Thorin be captured. He had to warn him. Had to keep Azog's threat from coming to pass. Bilbo waited long into the night, unable to sleep with the terror that gripped him, and the murderous monsters around him._

_Some time before dawn, the orcs drifted off, whether they didn't think him capable of escape or they fell asleep by accident, Bilbo was not about to sit and ponder. He lifted his foot carefully behind him, reaching with bound hands and fumbling with shaking fingers until he found his dagger tucked into the hem of his trousers._

_It took quite some time, and Bilbo had been worried he would be caught before he managed to cut his binds, but somehow, he finally managed, and, slipping on his ring, he disappeared into the night._

_It was quite some time later that he slowed down at all, taking off his ring and allowing himself to sit and breathe. He had come over rocky hillsides, and now found himself on the edge of a thick tree line. He panted and gasped, trying to catch his breath before he would start running again. He slipped his ring into his pocket, rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his face into his hands._  
_How was he going to find the company? He had no idea how far away they had managed to get, or even if he was moving in the right direction._

_The sound of a far off howl had him snapping from his thoughts, and he leapt to his feet, running off into the trees._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think! Love to hear from you all.
> 
> For anyone who couldn't bring themselves to read this chapter, basically, Bilbo reveals what the orcs did when they captured him. They beat him up a bit and Azog threatened to use him against Thorin. Azog tells Bilbo he will torture and kill him in front of Thorin before giving the dwarf the same treatment. 
> 
> Let me know if this summary is still too graphic, idk. Never done this before. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! More soon!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit violent, but not really much more than the movies. I have to be honest, I'm not really too terribly proud of this fic, but hey, it's keeping the creativity flowing! Enjoy!

The next morning was a blur, the company rose early and readied themselves to leave. Thorin spent the morning keeping a close eye on Bilbo. The hobbit had cried after telling his tale, but only for a short while. He had dropped off to sleep thereafter, and Thorin was certain he had not woken again. He let Bilbo sleep in the next morning, as late as he dared, unwilling to wake him after such an emotional night. He watched the hobbit sleep, his face peaceful and breathing even. Perhaps talking to Thorin about his capture had lightened its burden.

Bilbo hadn't been too cross with Thorin, for letting him sleep most of the morning away. He almost actually seemed pleased that the dwarf had extended such a courtesy on the day they were to depart. He dressed himself quickly, and the two descended the stairs together. A quick breakfast was had, and then they were being sent off to the sound of blaring horns and excited cheers. 

Thorin looked to the mountain eagerly. Soon they would be home. Soon, they would have their great kingdom back.

* * * * *

Nobody could have guessed the events that followed the hasty departure of Smaug from the mountain. No one save for Gandalf, but of course to Thorin's ire the wizard was nowhere to be seen. Now Thorin was left to his own devices, left to sort out who had taken the Arkenstone. Who among them was false. Who was the traitor, and what was their motive?

Thorin scanned the faces of his men again, as though their falsity would be written across their faces. His eyes landed on Bilbo. Ah, the hobbit. The only one he could trust. Thorin didn't even have to consider Bilbo as a suspect. Bilbo would never hurt him. 

Thorin turned back to the horde before him. The countless, endless, immeasurable wealth left to him. Enough to rebuild. Enough to shower Bilbo in, to prove the depths of his love for the hobbit.  
Gold beyond measure.  
Gold beyond the count of grief. 

* * * * *

“I gave it to them,” Bilbo's voice was like a blast to Thorin's heart. He looked at the hobbit in abject horror, his brain refusing to process the words coming out of his beloved's mouth. 

“You are changed, Thorin.”

Icy, cold, empty rage. Thorin's blood roared in his ears and he felt as though he were not in his own body. He saw only red, and then he was holding Bilbo by the throat, threatening to end the hobbit's life. 

Terror looked back at him, stealing Bilbo's features, but it was the devastation. The heartache that mirrored his own. The pain of being betrayed by one you trust. One you had been certain would never hurt you, never do anything intentionally that may hurt. May break your heart.

Oh, the damage they had done each other. 

Thorin let Bilbo go back to the wizard, back to the ones he had betrayed him for.  
He told himself he didn't care. He didn't need Bilbo. It never meant anything. It meant nothing at all.

* * * * *

Thorin stood alone. The wretched pale orc eying him viciously. He continued to dodge everything Azog threw at him, but he was tiring quickly. He could feel the burn of every muscle as he ducked, rolled and leaped from the foul orc's reach. He did not know how much longer his screaming body would hold. His pulse a hammer in his head, muscles turning to lead, heavy, and slow to follow his brain's commands. He could feel every cut, scrape, and bruise littering his body. Lungs burning with each breath of frigid air. Exhaustion made its presence known in every fiber of his being.

When the opportunity presented itself, Thorin could not help the cocky half grin that graced his face. Azog's flail was stuck in the ice next to him. Mustering every last ounce of strength he had, he lifted the thing and flung it at Azog. It hit the orc full in the chest and sent him through the ice into the frigid water below.

Thorin should have run. He should have stood back on the sidelines to watch the waters, making sure of the orc's death.  
But he didn't.  
He followed Azog's body as it drifted with the current under the ice, waiting until those empty eyes closed. Thorin let out the breath he had been holding, closing his eyes and bending to place his hands on his knees and settle himself.

The blade through his foot was as painful as it was surprising. Thorin arched back and let out a roar of anguish as Azog flung himself through the ice with incomprehensible strength. 

This was it. He was about to die. 

The orc pinned him to the ice, bracing himself over Thorin's exhausted form. Thorin could smell Azog's foul breath as the orc lifted his blade of an arm and brought it down at full strength in an attempt to impale him. Thorin barely caught the strike with his own blade. Dread coursed through his veins cold and harsh. Their blades against each other, it was just a matter of time. Thorin could not hold against his foe for long. He willed his arms to hold, digging deep to find the strength to throw off the beast. But the orc had the full force of his weight against him. 

Azog could see it in Thorin's eyes when he realized his defeat. Thorin felt the blade break his skin and was ready to succumb to his fate. Ready to accept that today, the line of Durin would end. His nephews lives probably already forfeit, what was the point of suspending the inevitable? 

“Hold him!” Azog's voice was deafening as it blasted in Thorin's face. The blade was ripped from his hands and the dwarf quickly found himself pinned down by two impossibly large orcs.  
“Bring me the halfling!”

Thorin's stomach dropped. He turned his head and his eyes met Bilbo's. The hobbit's hands were held fast behind his back by another of Azog's orcs.

Azog's twisted smile churned Thorin's stomach as the orc addressed the hobbit.  
“You nearly cost me everything, halfling. I think I'll save you for last. You can watch your precious dwarf die. Watch me break him, piece by piece!”

“NO!” Bilbo screamed as Azog clasped his hands and brought them down on Thorin's forearm with a sickening crack.

Thorin's roar of agony echoed over the ice, and Bilbo wished more than anything that he could take the dwarf's place. 

“Which limb next? Another arm? Or a leg?” Azog was in his element, bringing immeasurable horror upon any who stood against him. He turned back to Thorin, his face screwed up in what Thorin supposed was glee, and he lifted his heavily booted foot poising in over Thorin's shin.

“Thorin!” Bilbo's scream pulled both dwarf and orc's attention. They both looked up in time to see Bilbo twist his wrist from the grasp of the orc who held him. He reached over and snatched the dagger from the orc's side, turning in one swift move and slit the orc's throat. It was over in a flash, and then the hobbit was hurdling toward Azog at a shocking speed.

Bilbo's momentum was just enough to fling the solid body off of the king. Azog slid across the ice, skidding to a halt right next to the enraged hobbit.  
Bilbo was not finished. Thorin watched in disbelief as Bilbo, gentle, kind, practical Bilbo, lost himself to bloodthirsty rage. A scowl plastered over his usually stoic face, his movements were strong, determined, and he screamed fury in a way no creature that looked so soft should be able. With no hesitation, he lunged onto the surprised orcs chest before his victim could even flinch and buried his blade straight into Azog's black heart, freezing the surprised look on his horrid face.

Thorin slowly rolled onto his side, feeling just how much his battle had cost him. Then, with all the strength he could muster, he staggered to his feet, holding his broken arm to his chest. He looked to Bilbo, who was staring down at Azog in disgust.  
Fury.  
Disbelief.  
Shock.  
He had to get to Bilbo. Had to calm him. Had to apologize for casting him out. For almost .... no. He could not think of what he had almost done to his beloved hobbit. The thought drowned out the pain in his arm and the feel of the steady flow of blood from his chest, now surely coursing down his abdomen and over his hip, soaking his clothing. Thorin shuffled to Bilbo's side. He dropped to his knees and carefully laid a hand on Bilbo's arm. 

“Bilbo...” he nearly whispered. “Bilbo, it's alright.” 

Bilbo's face dropped and his body heaved with his quick labored breaths. He turned towards Thorin, slowly lifting his eyes to meet the dwarf's. Then Bilbo gasped and leaped to catch Thorin's head before it hit the ice.

Thorin did not notice that he had slumped over. He did not know that his eyes had closed as the curtain of black overwhelmed him, pulling him into its grasp. He did not hear Kili's screams, or Bilbo's voice calling him back to the light. All was calm. All was dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
Let me know what you think!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 11. Well, here ya go. Enjoy

Bilbo sat quietly at Thorin's bedside, as he had for the last three full days. The king had not awoken, though his sleep had not been peaceful. Bilbo had held the king's hand as he mumbled, cried out, and thrashed through fever dreams. 

Bilbo had hardly eaten. He rarely slept, and he left Thorin's side very rarely, and only when completely unavoidable. He tried very hard not to think of those last moments on the frozen river. Not to remember the cold fear that had gripped him at seeing Azog again. Then the absolute hatred and rage that had coursed through him as Azog broke his friend. His dwarf. His... well, honestly Bilbo couldn't be sure what he was to him now.

“Bilbo,” a gentle voice and a sympathetic hand on Bilbo's shoulder, then, “ya need to get yourself some sleep. You've hardly slept a wink in days and it's beginning to show. Yer gonna wear yourself out.” 

The words barely registered to Bilbo. Who was speaking to him? Bofur, he thought. But what had he said?   
“I'm sorry Bofur. What was it you wanted?” 

Bofur sighed in response, and it was Balin who answered instead.   
“Lad, we appreciate your looking after him and all, but it's you who needs looking after. You need sleep. Your wounds have hardly begun to heal. We have a nice warm bed made up where you can get a proper nights rest.” His hands replaced Bofur's on Bilbo's shoulders, and he attempted to coax the hobbit to stand. 

Bilbo shrugged Balin off.   
“No. I'm not leaving. The dreams get worse every time I let go of him.”   
Bilbo turned his head to look over his shoulder and his friends.   
“I cannot leave him now. He needs me.” 

Balin and Bofur exchanged knowing glances and moved on in defeat. 

Bilbo looked back to Thorin, who had again begun to mumble in his uneasy sleep. To his left, Fili lay on a cot, being tended to by both Oin and Tauriel. Kili sat at Fili's side much as Bilbo was at Thorin's, holding his hand and whispering to him, hoping he would soon rouse. The elf and the healer were determined in their combined efforts to bring the dwarf prince back. Fili and his uncle had been on the threshold of death since they were brought to the healing tents. Both dwarf and elf had dedicated themselves to reviving them. 

Bilbo closed his eyes and again shook his head, hoping this was all a bad dream. But as every time before, he opened them to see the reality unchanged before him. 

The king was dying, and so was his nephew. 

The snap of the tent flap shocked Bilbo from dozing. He looked over sleepily to see who had entered this time. He was surprised to see Legolas standing before him, taking in the scene with a calculated look on his face. The blond elf locked icy blue eyes with Tauriel, who had been working her hardest on Fili. Kili was perched at Fili's other side, face down on the sheets dozing even as he held fast to his brother's hand. 

Tauriel and Legolas silently regarded each other, seeming to have and entire conversation in complete silence. The elf prince then looked at Bilbo. Bilbo only frowned in confusion as Legolas began to approach him.

The elven prince bowed lightly and then regarded the hobbit.   
“Master Baggins, I wish to offer my skills to help the Dwarven King. I would like to help try to revive him.” 

Bilbo was taken aback at the elf's formal request. He quickly moved aside to make room for Legolas at Thorin's beside.   
“Yes, yes please. Try anything you can.”

Legolas moved over to Thorin's side and immediately began murmuring in elvish over the dwarf's still form. Tauriel smiled as she watched the events unfold before her. She knew she could save Fili, but Thorin was beyond her reach. Legolas had much more experience in healing, and she was sure if Thorin could be saved, Legolas would be the one who could do it. 

* * * * *

Bilbo had finally been coaxed into leaving the kings side long enough to get a little sustenance. The elven prince had worked diligently on Thorin. Little headway was made, but the fact that Legolas was optimistic was enough to convince Bilbo to see to his much neglected appetite. He was on his way back to the healing tent when Oin came running out, nearly toppling the hobbit over. 

“Bilbo! Just the hobbit I was looking for!” 

Bilbo shook his head and grinned halfheartedly.  
“As though there are many others to seek out.” 

Oin beamed and continued.   
“The king has awakened.” 

Bilbo's smile was quickly replaced by a concerned frown. 

“He's asking for you, lad,” Oin added. 

Bilbo nodded and followed the healer across the camp. He hadn't expected this so soon. Well, he hadn't expected the king would wake at all, if he were being honest. Now that it seemed he would soon be facing the dwarf, he was a bundle of nerves.   
Was Thorin still angry with him? The last time they had been face to face, the king had almost thrown him from the mountain to his death. Bilbo didn't think he could handle seeing that intense anger leveled at him again. See the betrayal and fury in Thorin's eyes. 

Bilbo swallowed audibly and twitched his nose in nervous habit. He tried to smile back at Oin, but only managed a grimace. The healer seemed to accept this as a suitable response and opened the tent flap to usher Bilbo in. 

The tent was empty, other than it's two occupants currently on cots. Fili lay as still as he had since he had been brought in, though his face held a little more color, looked more peaceful, as though he were merely sleeping. Bilbo turned to the other side of the tent where Thorin sat uneasily, slightly propped up on pillows. He carefully tip-toed closer to the kings bed, but stopped well away from the bedside and decided his feet were especially fascinating.

“Bilbo,” Thorin's voice was rough with pain and raspy with disuse. 

The hobbit glanced up long enough to see the cuts and bruises gracing the king's face, then quickly averted his gaze and stared somewhere off to the side, avoiding eye contact.

“Bilbo, please.” Thorin gestured for Bilbo to come closer. 

Bilbo took a tentative step, hesitated, then took a couple more until he was an arms reach from Thorin's bed. He kept looking anywhere but at Thorin's face, opened his mouth, closed it, twitched his nose, and settled instead for fidgeting with his fingers in front of him and carefully studying them as he did so. Thorin closed his eyes, feeling remorse for the deeds he knew were responsible for Bilbo's ill ease. He tried to compose himself, but knew it would not last. 

“Bilbo, please, look at me,” Thorin implored. 

Bilbo clenched his jaw and looked up at the king on the bed. 

“Bilbo, I'm so sorry.” 

There was no answer, Bilbo turned his gaze back to the ground and shook his head and sniffled. 

“If you can't find it in you to forgive me, I will understand,” Thorin's voice wavered a little, and he shook his head before he continued.   
“I nearly killed you. For that, I do not expect that you will ever want to be near me again.”   
Thorin's expression was pained as he watched the hobbit before him. Bilbo chewed his lips, obviously very troubled.  
“Bilbo, please, say something.” 

Bilbo shuffled over to Thorin's cot and sat down on the chair beside him, where he had sat vigil for the last several days. 

“I thought...” he started, shaking his head again.   
“I thought you were done for. I thought he-.. he had you.....”   
Bilbo could barely get out his statement as a sob caught in his throat and the tears ran unchecked down his face.   
“I was so afraid- I was going to lose you, Thorin!”   
Bilbo barely got out his last statement as it came out with a sob. 

Thorin reached out and placed an uncertain hand on the hobbit's shoulder. Bilbo looked up, finally meeting the dwarf's eyes. Thorin guided Bilbo to his side, making room on his bed for the hobbit to burrow in. Bilbo nestled in next to the king, settling his face into the crook of Thorin's neck. Thorin wrapped his good arm under his hobbit and buried his face in Bilbo's curls. They lay that way for a time, breathing each other in, and Bilbo could not believe he was in Thorin's arms again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
We're almost there! Just one more chapter to go!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright you guys, this is it! The conclusion to the fic I paid the least attention to. I hope you liked it anyway! Let me know if you would like an epilogue, I felt the ending wraps it up well enough, but if it leaves you wanting, I am more than willing to give you a little fast forward chapter!

Bilbo woke to soft snoring. He blinked heavily, trying to find coherency. Where was he, and why did he feel like he had taken a serious beating? 

His memory came tumbling back to him, each event bringing with it horror and disbelief as it hit him. He lifted his head from where it had been cradled in the crook of Thorin's arm. He had to see Thorin's face. Had to watch the breath moving in and out of his chest. Had to see he was alive. Alive and peaceful. His movements must have woken the dwarf, who began to stir as Bilbo let out a grateful sigh of relief.

“Bilbo?” Thorin breathed.  
“Yes. Just... just checking on you,” Bilbo responded. 

There was silence for a few minutes, in which Thorin could nearly hear Bilbo's brain processing, mulling over something the hobbit clearly wasn't happy about.  
“You faced him alone,” Bilbo accused softly.  
Thorin sighed. “Yes.”  
“You never should have faced him alone,” Bilbo's voice was strained, the anger and fear rising anew.

“I told you I would have to face him. He had to be stopped.”

“And I had to be the one to do it! He nearly killed you! Again!”

“I didn't ask for your help! I didn't ask you to put yourself in harms way yet again to come to my rescue!”

Bilbo huffed an unamused chuckle.  
“Is this to be the way of it for us? You will want me when we are safe, but be furious with me when I've been in danger? When I've endangered myself in order to save you from your own stubborn stupidity?”  
The irritation in Bilbo's voice made Thorin cringe guiltily. He shook his head softly, reaching out to smooth his hand over Bilbo's face.

“No, Bilbo. I will be yours always. I'm sorry I have made such a mess of things. But-” Thorin searched for the words to explain his horrid behavior.  
“We don't need to speak of it. It's over now.”

“Oh,” Bilbo's voice grew dangerous and he poked the dwarf in the chest above his bandages. “We will be discussing this, Thorin Oakenshield, and we will discuss it now! Why were you so distant after my capture? I had been returned whole and hale, why were you so angry with me?”

Thorin shook his head.  
“I was not angry with you. Never with you.”  
He sighed shakily, trying not to disturb his wounds.  
“I have never felt for someone so intensely before. The thought of losing you...” he shook his head again, blinking back the echo of fear.  
“It pained me more than any wound.”

“You're indifference pained me. We had been growing close, and I thought that you cared for me,” Bilbo's anger was returning at the dwarf's stupidity, and Thorin couldn't blame him for it. 

“I did. I do. I- I let my pride cloud my judgment. I felt responsible for your suffering, and being near you only reminded me of my failing.”

“And what of your heart? If you felt so intensely, did you not long to be near me?”

“Of course,” Thorin grinned. “My heart wanted you, but my pride was louder.”  
Thorin swallowed, trying to find the courage to speak plainly of his emotions. It was not easy.  
“Bilbo, I... my heart is yours. I have never felt like this, and it... it's a bit... unnerving. I don't know how to express it, and I don't have the words to describe it.”

“Try.”

Thorin closed his eyes, swallowing thickly again. He kept them closed as he spoke, focusing on the feeling and forcing his discomfort aside. 

“I feel..... tethered to you,” he began slowly, uncertainly, “as though there is a line directly connected from my heart to yours.”  
He worked his mouth dryly. It felt as though the words were unwillingly to leave his throat.  
“I feel your pain when you ache.” He finally continued. “When you are near, my heart sings like the stone beneath the mountain. You feel like....”  
Thorin shook his head lightly in wonder at the realization.  
“You feel like home.”  
Thorin finished, feeling relief at having finally let the emotions that overwhelmed him out, if a bit embarrassed at the poetic nature of his words. He opened his eyes to find Bilbo beaming at him warmly.

“I think you have the exact words to express it, Thorin,” Bilbo pressed his forehead gently to the dwarf's. “I love you too,” the hobbit whispered.

Thorin grinned, letting the contentment wash over him as he felt Bilbo's breath on his face and his heart against his chest.  
“I would have you now, but for these accursed wounds,” Thorin breathed into Bilbo's ear.

“I can arrange that,” Bilbo offered with a smirk. He leaned in, kissing Thorin tentatively, then letting himself be swept up in it. After his need for reassuring kisses wore off, he sat up and removed his trousers, then carefully straddled Thorin's waist. 

Thorin flinched a bit as his leg shifted, and Bilbo immediately raised himself up. 

“Perhaps we should wait,” Bilbo suggested.

“No!” Thorin insisted. “No, Bilbo, please. It's just my foot. I need you now.”

“Alright. But you'll tell me if it's too much?” Bilbo urged.

Thorin nodded. 

Bilbo leaned down, bracing himself with hands at either side of Thorin's face. He kissed the dwarf, letting his hips roll languidly against Thorin. He pulled back to watch Thorin's face as the dwarf began to pant and and whimper with the frustration of not being able to move. 

“Relax, My King, or you'll pull your stitches,” Bilbo teased. He sat up and began working at the laces of Thorin's trousers. He edged them down slightly, just enough to free Thorin's length. 

Thorin gasped and keened when Bilbo stroked him lightly, using every bit of self-restraint to keep himself from arching off the cot. He near whimpered when the caress stopped, until he realized Bilbo was standing next to the cot, pushing his own trousers to the ground. 

Bilbo searched through the various vials and tins on the little table in the corner, settling on a healing salve for burns. He figured it would work well enough for his purpose. He brought the tin back to the cot, seemingly comfortable with his own level of nakedness. He clambered back up next to Thorin, who's pupil's had blown wide at the eyeful of Bilbo he had just gotten. 

Bilbo got back into position, straddling Thorin's thighs, and raised up on his knees. He unscrewed the tin and drug his fingers through the slick oily salve. He set the tin off to the side, sure he would need it again soon, and reached back to begin working himself open. Thorin laid back in anticipation, watching with rapt attention as Bilbo worked, pushing in first one finger, then two, up to the second knuckle. It only took a moment before Bilbo was reaching for the salve again, this time slicking Thorin's cock and holding it in his hot grip. 

Thorin's mouth ran dry, his good hand moving to caress Bilbo's side reverently as the hobbit lined himself up and slowly began to slide down. Thorin groaned at the sensation, then grimaced as the effort twinged his ribs.

“Shhh,” Bilbo soothed, caressing Thorin's beard with his clean hand. “Be still.”  
He pushed himself up, letting the cool air hit the sensitive flesh of Thorin's length, then slowly dropped back down. Thorin' eyes rolled back, his breath hitching as Bilbo repeated the action. The hobbit quickly picked up a steady rhythm, his movements fluid.

Thorin was overwhelmed at the picture Bilbo posed, eyelids fluttering and soft gasps leaving his lips as he fucked himself on Thorin's cock. It was too much. All too soon, Thorin felt his peak nearing. He squeezed Bilbo's hip with his good hand, thrusting up to meet the hobbit's body. He held his breath for a moment, eyes pinching shut, then let it out in a rough moan as he fell over the edge, filling Bilbo with his release. 

Bilbo stopped moving and took himself in hand. He stroked himself feverishly, and when Thorin's hand joined him he was done for. He came with a strangled cry, painting Thorin's bare stomach with his release.

Bilbo and Thorin were still for a few moments, panting with half lidded eyes as drowsiness overwhelmed them. Thorin coughed roughly, his face pinching up in a grimace.

“Oh, Thorin.... I'm sorry. We probably should've waited, this was obviously far to strenuous on your wounds,” Bilbo nattered.

Thorin shook his head with a wry grin as Bilbo hurried to fetch a cloth to wipe Thorin off.  
“Don't be ridiculous, Bilbo. Waiting was not an option,” Thorin said gruffly. 

Bilbo smirked. “Well, alright. But now you need your rest. Oin would kill me if he knew I let that happen so soon after a chest injury.”

“Then, my dear hobbit, we will keep it a secret.”

Bilbo chuckled, the endorphins sending him on a spiral of euphoria.  
“Yes. I suppose we should!”

Thorin chuckled, ignoring the stabbing pain in his ribs. He looked to Bilbo with an open smile, eyes sparkling in the low glow of the lanterns.  
“Stay with me?” he asked, the request an echo of a night not too long ago in a dark dungeon. 

“I am not going anywhere,” Bilbo answered. 

Thorin let his eyes fall closed. There was still so much work ahead, rebuilding and finding supplies to last the winter. There would be homes to remake and a kingdom to bring back to life. Thorin knew it would all come in time, so long as he had Bilbo, his unlikely hero, at his side. Thorin sighed happily, letting the afterglow whisk him off into a peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who stuck through this experiment with me! Let me know if I've let you wanting! I would never let that stand
> 
> -Mama


End file.
